Rooftop Rendezvous
by InfinityStar
Summary: During a difficult and emotionally trying case, Bobby treats Alex to an unconventional dinner, but it doesn't turn out the way he intended at all.
1. The Major and the Detective

**A/N: As ever, they belong to Dick Wolf...

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James Deakins studied the trim man with the salt-and-pepper crewcut who sat ramrod straight in the chair in front of his desk, dressed crisply in a green Army dress uniform. Major Hugo Cressmoor turned his hat over in hands as he spoke. "Your chief of detectives sent me down here to talk to you, Captain. Yesterday, my daughter was physically assaulted in Riverside Park. She is in the intensive care unit at NYU Medical Center. I approached your chief for two reasons. First of all, we are friends and I knew I could count on his support, and second, I want the best detectives on this case. I do not want the bastard who did this to Kelly to get away. He told me you have a pair of detectives who boast the highest solve rate in the department. They are the detectives I seek."

Deakins sighed. "I assume the local precinct has the case right now?"

"Yes. They have compiled a list of witnesses, including my daughter's nanny, who was with her at the time of the attack and was also injured."

Deakins choked on his coffee, unfortunate enough to have been taking a drink when the major said the word 'nanny.' "Her nanny?"

"Yes. My daughter is five, captain."

Another deep sigh and Deakins went to the door of his office. "Goren, Eames, get in here."

He waited for the two detectives to enter the office and close the door. Eames stood near his desk, her eyes passing over the Army officer, while her partner hung back, observing. Deakins said, "Major, these are the two detectives you were told about: Alexandra Eames and Robert Goren." Turning his eyes to the two detectives, he said, "This is Major Hugo Cressmoor. His daughter was assaulted in Riverside Park yesterday and I am giving the case to the two of you." Both detectives regarded him with quiet reserve; they knew there was more. "First of all, this case comes to us, and more specifically to the two of you, with the recommendation of the Major's friend, our chief of detectives. Second, the Major's daughter is only five years old and she is in the intensive care unit at NYU Medical Center as a result of the attack."

That last bit of information got a subtle reaction from each detective. Goren stiffened, his face darkened into a frown. Eames clenched her jaw and her body tensed. Quietly, she said, "Do we have any leads?"

"A list of witnesses compiled by the local precinct, including the nanny, who was with the little girl when she was attacked."

Eames looked at the major. "Where is your daughter's nanny now?"

"At NYU Medical Center. She was also injured in the attack and she's still in the hospital."

From behind the major, Goren asked, "The nanny was with your daughter? So she witnessed the attack?"

"I would assume so. I didn't ask her."

Goren raised his eyebrows. "You didn't ask?"

Cressmoor turned in his chair to eye the detective. "No, I didn't. That is your job, detective. I am concerned with her recovery and my daughter's. I leave the police work to the police. And I fully expect you to do the job your reputation implies and find this bastard." He rose from his seat and turned to Deakins. "Thank you very much, Captain Deakins. Please keep me advised of your progress. I want to know when you catch him."

The major left the office. Eames looked at her partner. "Nice job of pissing him off."

Goren shrugged. "If she were my daughter, I would want to know. He says he wants to get this guy..."

Deakins cut in. "He also said it's your job to do the police work, not his. Now go and do the police work. And don't cause me any headaches with this guy, Goren."

As they headed back toward their desks, Eames said, "Let's get our list of witnesses and see what we have."

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Eames rubbed her forehead and looked toward Goren. She was sitting on his living room floor, near the coffee table, with papers spread around her. A plate of Chinese take-out was sitting on the table in front of her. "A nice spring Sunday so the nanny takes the little girl for a walk in the park. Somebody attacks them, but no one comes forward to admit they saw it. So we have to track down--" She looked at the list in front of her and sighed softly.

"Twenty-three witnesses," her partner filled in.

She looked back at him. He was laying on the couch, arm across his eyes, one foot on the couch, knee bent, the other flat on the floor. His plate was by hers on the table, untouched. She sighed in frustration. "Tell me this: how do twenty-three people witness the assault of a little girl and her nanny in the park and do nothing about it? And why only twenty-three witnesses? A beautiful Sunday afternoon--Riverside Park would have been full of people."

He sat up and grabbed a a stack of papers from the coffee table, his half of the papers they'd gotten from the two detectives in the local precinct, who had been more than happy to turn the case over to them. Major Cressmoor, they informed the team from Major Case, was a pain in the ass. "The assault took place in an area that was hidden from view. The witnesses were not witness to the assault. The local detectives believe they saw the suspect either just before or just after the attack. These were people who came forward to say they were in the vicinty at the time. It's up to us to pull it all together and find out who hurt this little girl."

"Great. Twenty-three witnesses who didn't witness anything. This should be fun." She took a bite of her egg roll. "You should eat."

Ignoring her suggestion, he asked, "Um, the nanny...is she on the witness list?"

She scanned the list. "No. She's listed seperately. Her name is Gloria Harrison. They hadn't gotten around to talking to her yet, but it was on their 'to do' list."

"We should go to see her tomorrow, first thing. See what she remembers. We, uh, we should also see the little girl."

"There's no point in visiting Kelly yet. She's still in a coma."

He looked at the papers in his hand. "I...I think we should stop by and see her."

"Why?"

"I just think we should."

"To show we're interested?"

"We _are _interested, Eames."

"We are interested in solving the crime."

"So we have no interest in the little girl who was the victim of the crime?"

"I never said that, Bobby."

"So we'll stop by to see her in the morning."

She sighed. "Okay, fine. We'll stop by. Now, about the rest of these witnesses..."

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The steady beeping and the rasp of the respirator unsettled her, not because of what they were, but because of where they were: the pediatric intensive care unit at NYU Medical Center. She watched from the doorway as her partner approached the bedside. Slowly, she stepped into the room, as far as the foot of the bed. Head injuries, broken ribs, fractured clavicle, broken leg...that guy really beat the crap out of this child. That was inexcusable and unforgivable.

He stood in silence, watching the child. He noticed the IV lines, the monitor leads, the respirator tubing. But past that, he noticed the little girl. Long blonde hair, full cheeks, round face...like an angel. He clenched and unclenched his fist, over and over, watching the still face of the little girl who should be playing with her friends in her kindergarten class, not laying here in a hospital bed, fighting for her life. He reached out a hand, touched a cherubic cheek, then turned suddenly and strode from the room with purpose.

Eames swore and took off after him. She had to trot to catch up with him; she hated that. In retrospect, she had known this wasn't a good idea. Had it been better to see the child before they talked to the nanny? That remained to be seen.

"Detectives!"

He stopped in his tracks at the booming voice, vestiges of his military training, she assumed when she ran into his broad back. She hissed a swear at him as he muttered an apology and they turned to face the major, who approached them with a cup of coffee in his hand. "Have you found anything?" he asked, addressing Eames because he was still annoyed with Goren.

"We've just started on the case, Major," she said.

"So why are you here and not out there looking?"

Before she could answer, Goren said, "It might be a good idea to know what we're looking _for_, Major."

The major's eyes narrowed at him. _Great_, Eames thought. This was not a dispute she wanted to be caught in the middle of. She jumped in as she discretely brought her heel down on her partner's instep. He grunted softly but caught her message and kept silent. "We are here to talk to Gloria," she said. "But we stopped in to see how Kelly was doing first."

Cressmoor frowned. "I'll take care of my daughter. You two do your job."

"We will," Eames answered. She didn't have to look at Goren to sense his growing anger. "Come on, Goren," she muttered as she headed past him back in the direction of the elevators.

Neither said a word as they stepped into the elevator. She hazarded a glance at her partner; he was very angry. "Sorry about that, Bobby, but I'm not having you get into a pissing match with him. I will not be caught in the middle of some testosterone-laced clash of egos here."

"Eames, you know me better."

"I know what I see, partner, and you and that man do not like each other. I'm not overly fond of his attitude myself, but I don't seem to rub him the wrong way like you do. And remember...he's a friend of the Chief of D's. You get into it with him and Deakins will have your head on a platter, and mine with it for letting it happen. So behave yourself."

He clenched his jaw. "I will," he grumbled tensely. Then he turned away and got lost in his thoughts. _Wonderful..._she mused. She hoped the nanny would be able to tell them something...anything... The sooner they had this case solved and were rid of Major Cressmoor, the better she would like it.

The doors opened and he was off. She hurried after him. "Goren!" He stopped suddenly, turning toward her with a questioning look. She caught up to him and hissed quietly, "This is not a race and I am not running to keep up with you. Slow the hell down."

"Oh, uh, sorry, Eames."

He bent slightly at the waist and allowed her to go first down the hall toward the nurses' station. She gave him an annoyed glare that warned him not to be an ass and he grinned at her, falling into step behind her when she continued down the hall. One way or another, she could always defuse his anger.

Eames stopped before the unit secretary, who looked up. "May I help you?"

She held up her badge. "We need to talk to a patient of yours: Gloria Harrison."

She nodded, as though she had been expecting them; she probably was. "She's in room 841."

"Thank you."

Gloria Harrison was a young woman, not yet twenty-five. She was attractive, even with the dark bruises that covered her face. The right side of her mouth and jaw were swollen and her left arm was in a cast. An IV line ran into the back of her right hand. She watched the two detectives enter the room. "Hi, Gloria," Eames said kindly. "I'm Detective Eames. This is my partner Detective Goren. We're investigating the assault."

"The major told me someone would be coming to talk to me. He's being very...kind to me."

She spoke to them both, but she kept her eyes on him. Eames rolled her eyes. "Can you tell us anything about the attack or your attacker?"

Gloria sighed. "I can tell you that he hurt us."

Silently, Eames counted to ten. Before she got there, Goren spoke up. "Who did he grab first, you or Kelly?"

"He grabbed us both. He twisted my arm and hit me in the head, then he began hitting her. When I regained my senses, I tried to pull him off her and he began hitting me in the face and he wouldn't stop. That's all I remember."

"Did you get a look at him?"

"Not a good one. He was big, but not like you."

Eames took over again. "What color was his hair?"

"Dark."

"Did you see his face?"

"Not well. He had a moustache and a beard...and glasses."

"Any idea what race he was?"

"White, I think."

"And you didn't recognize him?"

"Should I have?"

"Did you?"

"No, I don't think so."

Eames sighed. "What was he wearing?"

"Dark sweats, and sneakers, I think. There was a logo on the shirt..."

She frowned, trying to remember. Her eyes kept glancing up at Goren, who didn't notice. Eames knew he was having trouble getting his mind off Kelly. Lightly, she kicked his shin and he shifted his eyes toward her. She rolled her eyes toward the girl, and he looked at her. She smiled and he sighed softly. "Do you remember the logo?" he asked.

"No. I don't."

Sensing there was nothing else she was going to get from this girl, other than an offer for a date with her partner, Eames set her card on the girl's tray table. "Thank you for your time, Gloria. We're going to send a police sketch artist up here to work with you this afternoon. Just try to remember everything you can. If we have any more questions, we'll be in touch. If you think of anything, give us a call."

"Thank you."

Again, she spoke to both but kept her eyes on him. He followed Eames from the room. She looked up at him with a smirk. "Looks like you have an admirer."

"Give me a break, Eames."

She laughed and headed down the hall toward the elevators.


	2. The Gathering Storm

It was almost lunchtime and they had successfully scheduled fourteen witnesses before the end of the week. They were hoping at least one of them would give them some useful information, but they were not optimistic. Eames grabbed her phone when it rang. "Eames."

_Hello, detective._

She sighed softly. "Hello, Major Cressmoor."

_Have you made any progress?_

"Not over the last two hours. We are in the process of scheduling the witnesses. If we find anything out, we'll let you know."

_Be sure that you do. _

The line went dead. She looked at the receiver before putting it back in its cradle and turning her attention to her partner in time to see the smirk he was trying to hide. She threw a paperclip at him. "For that, you can buy lunch."

"At least he kind of likes one of us."

"I don't know if that man kind of likes anybody."

He smiled and started to turn back to his half of their witness list. He stopped, thoughtful. "Uh, I'll be right back."

She watched him trot toward the elevators, used to his sudden spurts of energy and random disappearances. He'd be back shortly. She picked up the phone and dialed the number of the next witness on her list.

The chief of detective's secretary looked up, smiling at the tall figure who approached her desk. "Hello, Bobby."

"Hi, Cindy."

She blushed slightly. He was the only one who called her that. To everyone else, she was Cynthia. "How can I help you?"

"Is Denise in?"

"Yes. Go right in."

Watching him disappear into the office behind her, to the right of the chief's, she sighed. She was almost envious. If she were single, and about twenty years younger, the chief's assistant might have some serious competition.

Denise looked up from her desk when he came in and smiled at him. "Hi, Bobby."

He eased himself into a chair in front of her desk. "Hi," he said with a warm smile. "I have a question for you."

She set down her pen. "Okay, shoot."

"Major Hugo Cressmoor. What do you know about him?"

She leaned back. "Not a lot. He and the chief are friends. They went to college together, I think. The chief told me his wife died about seven years ago and he's now remarried. Said he spoils that little girl. He also has an older son by his first marriage."

Goren looked thoughtful. "How old is the son?"

"I don't know. He didn't say. Why? What are you thinking?"

He smiled. "Oh, nothing. Uh, what's the chief's opinion of the major?"

"The chief likes him, but I hear that you don't."

"Not particularly, no."

"He does seem a bit abrasive. He thinks you're arrogant, but he likes Alex. Says she knows how to keep you in line and he admires that." Her eyes glinted, teasing. "At least _someone_ can keep you in line."

"Oh, I don't know," he said softly as he got to his feet. "You do a fair job yourself."

She laughed. "Are you free for lunch?"

His eyes unconsciously strayed from her face. "I wish I was. We have witness interviews all afternoon."

"Maybe later in the week, then. Give me a call. Tell Alex I said hi."

"I will."

She picked up her pen as he headed out of the office. "And Bobby?" He turned in the doorway. "Try not to piss him off again. The chief isn't overly fond of being yelled at, even by an old friend."

"I'll try. Thanks, Denise."

As he passed Cynthia's desk, he lightly touched her shoulder. "Thanks, Cindy," he said with a wink.

"Have a good afternoon, Bobby," she smiled after him.

He leaned against the back wall of the elevator as the door slid closed. He'd been dating Denise casually for more than a year, and she remained his favorite among his dates. She understood the casual nature of their relationship and never pressured him. More importantly, she was not jealous of Eames. She liked his partner and never got upset when something involving work interfered with their plans. She knew he was close to Eames and she seemed to be fine with it. But something had changed recently and he wasn't sure what. He just knew it was something inside him. He had backed off dating, claiming a heavy workload, which was only partially true. The real truth of the matter, had he chosen to analyze it, was that he had begun to prefer his partner's company over anyone else's, and he wasn't sure what to make of that. At first, he thought it was simply because he was so happy to have her back from her maternity leave. Now he was beginning to wonder.

Eames was on the phone when he returned to his desk, and he waited for her to finish. When she hung up, she looked at him. "Where'd you go?"

"I had some questions about the major. He has an older son by a previous marriage. Apparently, Kelly is a product of his union with a new wife."

She looked interested. "And we're interested in him?"

"That's premature. But we need to find out more about him and where he was Sunday."

"And when we find out he's a scrawny, blonde ten-year-old?"

"Then we can rule him out as a suspect."

"I'll flip you for who gets to call his father."

He shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled out a quarter. "Call it in the air."

He tossed the coin and she called "Heads."

He looked at it. It was tails. He slid the quarter into his pocket. "Heads, it is. I'll make the call."

He leaned over to grab a file that sat on her desk and flipped it open, locating the major's number and dialing before she could say anything. Cressmoor's voice was even less friendly on the other end of a phone line. _Cressmoor_.

"Hello, major. This is Detective Goren."

_I hope you are calling with information._

"No, sir. Sorry. We need some more information from you."

_What else could you possibly need?_

"You have an older son."

_What about him?_

"We need to know where he was on Sunday."

He could almost hear the major's head explode. _What the hell for?_

"It's routine, sir. We need to account for all family members and it just came to our attention that we haven't accounted for your son's whereabouts."

The major's voice was tight with fury. _My son had nothing to do with what happened to his sister._

"I understand that, sir. We are not saying he did. This is a routine part of our investigation."

_Go to hell, Goren._

The line went dead. He dropped the receiver back on its cradle and looked at his partner. "I'd anticipate the major's arrival within the hour."

"That will be interesting. I guess that means lunch is out."

"I can run out and grab us something if you're hungry."

She gave it some thought. Maybe it would be a good idea if Bobby _wasn't _here when the major arrived. "Mexican?"

"I thought spicy gave you heartburn."

"When I was pregnant. I'm not pregnant any more."

He eyed her suspiciously. She just smiled. "Don't forget..."

"Yeah, I know. A vanilla milkshake."

"You're my hero."

"Are you trying to get rid of me, Eames?"

"Why would I do that? Go, Bobby. You need to be back at 1:30 for our first interview."

She watched him leave, smiling when he looked back at her. He finally gave her a smile in return and left the squad room. As soon as he was gone, she headed for the captain's office to warn him of the approaching storm.


	3. The Storm Breaks

Eames was convinced that if it were possible to slam an elevator door, Cressmoor would have done just that. She purposely kept her head down, preparing to contact the next witness, as the major blasted into the squad room. She didn't have to look up; she knew he was there. She also knew when he stopped by Goren's desk, snorting like an angry bull. "Where is he, detective?" he growled.

She looked up, struggling to keep her expression blank. Whether amusement or annoyance would have been first to show, she could not predict, but she guessed either would have been unwelcome and probably deemed inappropriate by the Powers That Be. "Excuse me, major?" she asked placidly. "Are you referring to my partner?"

She could swear she saw steam coming from the man's ears. "Yes, I mean your partner!"

"He isn't here at the moment. Would you like me to give him a message?"

"I am certain you would not relay the message I have for him."

He stormed off, heading for Deakins' office. Ah, well...that was the captain's job, to run interference. At least she gave him a head's up so he knew what to expect, and he knew that it wasn't Bobby's fault this time. She crossed her fingers and hoped it would take Goren a little longer to get back...just until the major was safely gone from the building. She cringed inwardly as she heard the major shouting from behind the closed door of the captain's office, until the door opened and Deakins hollared, "Eames, get in here!"

Oh, Goren was _so _going to owe her for this.

She stepped into the office, where Cressmoor was huffing like a freight train. For a moment, she worried the man was going to have a stroke. The moment he opened his mouth, though, she stopped worrying and started hoping. Cressmoor glared at her. "How could you let him make an accusation like that!"

Her eyebrows rose in genuine surprise. "_Let_ him? Major Cressmoor, my partner is not a child. He is a very competent police officer investigating a crime _against_ a child..._your_ child. And he did not accuse you of anything."

"Not me. My son!"

"He made no accusations. He made a perfectly legitimate request as a routine part of our investigation. Had I been the one to call you with the same request, I would wager we would not be here having this conversation."

The major sputtered as Deakins struggled to hide his amusement and keep a serious face. When Cressmoor looked at him, he sighed. "Major, I realize you do not like Goren. But the man is doing his job, and I will stand behind him for that. His request was not out of line."

Cressmoor's reply was cut off by a booming knock on the door. Deakins knew exactly who it was and exactly why he was there. "Come in," he said, hoping he would not regret those words.

The door opened and Goren came in, his face dark and stormy. _Shit_, Eames thought. This was not going to go well. Her gut clenched and she got a really bad feeling. Glancing at Deakins, who came around his desk, she could tell he was feeling the same way.

Cressmoor glared at him, his face gradually going from red to purple as his rage increased. "You do not know my son," he growled as he turned fully toward Goren.

"An hour and a half ago I didn't even know you _had _a son," Goren answered, his voice tight but controlled.

Deakins looked at Eames and met her eyes as he discretely stepped closer to the major. She moved a few steps closer to her partner. Neither man noticed; they were focused solely on each other. Goren's anger was controlled, but Eames knew he was furious. The soft timbre of his voice did nothing to hide his anger. "If you have a problem with me, major, you take it up with me. You do not drag my captain into it and you do not take it out on my partner. If you want to find out who hurt your little girl, then let us do our damn job and stay the hell out of the way."

When Cressmoor stepped toward him, Deakins stepped into his path. "Okay...Goren, Eames, out."

He didn't have to tell them twice. Eames grabbed Goren's arm and hustled him out the door. When the door closed behind them, Cressmoor's shouting resumed, but it didn't last long. A few minutes later, the captain's door opened and Cressmoor left the office, slamming the door behind him. He headed straight for the elevators. Deakins came out a few minutes later and approached Goren and Eames. "Well, you did a great job of thoroughly pissing him off."

Goren looked up at him. "You didn't deserve that. All I did was tell him we needed to account for the whereabouts of all family members during the time the little girl was attacked. Routine investigative procedure."

Deakins nodded and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry about it. I already talked to the chief. He knows you did nothing out of line. Have you gotten all the witnesses scheduled?"

"Almost."

Eames added, "The first interview is in a half hour."

Deakins nodded. "Make it good, guys. I want to close the book on this case, and if it unravels, I do not want it coming back on us."

He headed back toward his office. "If we're lucky," Eames commented dryly. "The major will explode before the case is over and we won't have to deal with him any more."

A soft smile touched Goren's mouth and he handed her a tall styrofoam cup. "Eat your lunch, Eames."

Taking the cup from him, she touched his fingers and gave him a smile. When she turned to her lunch, he exhaled softly and picked up the phone to call the next witness.

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Eames was preparing for their fifth interview of the day while Goren finished up the preliminary paperwork from their last interview. "Detective Goren?"

He looked up into the worried face of a tall, well-dressed woman. She was young and pretty, but her eyes were tired and red-rimmed. "My name is Patrice Cressmoor, Kelly's mother."

He got to his feet, accepting her extended hand. He motioned to his chair. "Hello, Mrs. Cressmoor. Please, sit down."

"Thank you." She sat in the chair he had just vacated and he waited for her to continue. She sighed. "I understand you have some questions about my stepson that Hugo was unwilling to answer."

"Just routine questions. We need to know the whereabouts of everyone in the family."

"Please forgive him for his temper, detective. Do you have children?"

"No, ma'am. I don't."

"Try to understand. Kelly is his baby girl. Since the day she was born, she has been the apple of his eye. He feels...impotent right now. Somebody hurt his baby and he can't do a thing about it. He feels like you are spinning your wheels and the man who did this is going to get away with it. He's not used to feeling that way and he simply can't tolerate a situation he cannot control."

Goren nodded and leaned against the desk. "I assure you, we're doing everything we can, but we don't have a lot to go on."

"I understand that." She handed him a piece of paper. "My stepson's name is Jeffrey. He was out with friends on Sunday. Those are the names and numbers of the friends he said he was with."

"You don't believe him."

"I don't know. Jeff is alot like his father and he has always been jealous of Kelly. But he has also always been a good boy, and I don't know what to think. If you can confirm his whereabouts, that's fine. I don't have any other information."

"How old is Jeff?"

"Seventeen. Hugo and I have been married since he was eleven, about a year after his mother died of cancer. I have done my best to be a good mother to him and he always seemed to appreciate it. But he is close to his father and I think he resents having to share him with Kelly after twelve years of being an only child. He has always been kind to Kelly, and he never yelled at her or anything, but there was always an undercurrent of jealousy there that Hugo refuses to acknowledge."

Goren absently studied the paper in his hand. She seemed to be a sensitive and perceptive woman. Tilting his head slightly to the side, he asked, "Do you think Jeff could have done this?"

"Under other circumstances, I would say absolutely not. But..." She sighed heavily. "I don't like the crowd he's running with, detective. They are troublemakers. The one boy there, George Hunter, has been in trouble with the police...drugs, I think. I don't know about the other boys."

"Does Jeff have a girlfriend?"

"Not that I know, but I think he had his eye on Gloria. That was another scenario Hugo refused to address, even as a possibility. But it's one reason I think that Jeff may not have been involved. He does like Gloria. And I have trouble seeing him do something like that to any child, especially his sister."

"How did Kelly react to him? Was she ever afraid of him?"

"No. Never. She loves Jeff. She loves...everyone.."

She covered her mouth with a hand as tears welled in her eyes. Goren reached forward and touched her shoulder. She struggled for a few moments before she was able to compose herself. His eyes showed concern. "Is there anything I can do? Would you like something to drink?"

She shook her head. "No, thank you. I really need to...get back to the hospital."

"How is Kelly doing?"

"She's...okay, right now." She rested her hand on his arm. "They told me you and your partner came to see her. Thank you for that."

He nodded. "Let us know how she does."

She rose to her feet. "I will. Thank you, Detective Goren. Please...find the person who did this...and...try not to judge my husband too harshly. His bark really is much worse than his bite."

He smiled kindly. "Don't worry."

She took a deep breath and reached into her purse. Taking out a small picture, she handed it to him. "Keep this. When Hugo is at his worst, you can remember why you're doing this."

Then she moved past him toward the elevators. He studied the picture in his hand and let his thoughts wander over the conversation until a voice behind him brought him back. "Something wrong with your chair?"

"What?" He looked around. "No...oh, uh, we just had a visitor."

"Well, you're not bleeding so I can assume it wasn't the major."

He smiled. "No, it was his wife. She's very different from her husband."

She nodded her head toward his hand. "She give you her number?"

He smiled slightly. "No. Phone numbers of the kids her stepson said he was with on Sunday."

"Oh. More interviews. Oh, goody."

"And this." He showed her the picture. "So we won't forget why we're doing this when we have to deal with the major."

It was almost painful to look at the picture, knowing what someone had done to that little girl. The picture certainly served the purpose the mother intended it to. He slid it into his shirt pocket. Eames sighed. "Did she have much to say about her stepson?"

"No. Just that he's 17 and hanging with the wrong crowd. And the major doesn't like to consider any scenarios that don't mesh with his worldview."

"Really? I never would have gotten that."

He finally smiled. Slipping the paper with the numbers into his binder, he said, "Are we ready for Mr. Carruthers?"

"He's ready and waiting."

"Let's go then."

He followed her toward the interview room.

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By the time they were done interviewing the last witness of the day, it was after eight. They were tired and frustrated. Six interviews and they had gotten nowhere. So far, no one had seen anyone matching the description of the man the nanny described. The composite she'd worked up with the sketch artist they'd sent up hadn't helped either.

Goren scrubbed his face and leaned back in his chair. "Go home, Eames. I'll finish up here."

"I'm not going to stick you with all the work."

He laughed. "As if. Go on home. I'll see you in the morning."

"Are you sure?"

"If I wasn't, I wouldn't tell you to leave." He smiled. "Good night, Eames."

She wasn't going to sit and argue the point. "Okay, then. Good night, Bobby." She got up and hesitated. "Promise me you'll get some rest?"

He nodded. "I'll get some rest."

He watched her until she got on the elevator. With a heavy sigh, he leaned back and reached into his pocket. Pulling the picture out, he studied the sweet face of their child victim. Very softly, he whispered, "I'm sorry." And he closed his eyes.


	4. A Talk with Kelly

Eames opened her apartment door and dropped her keys on the table near the television. Heading into the kitchen, she brewed herself a cup of tea and sat on the couch with it. Looking at the time, she flipped on the television. She wanted to give Bobby enough time to get home before she called him to say good night. When she went on maternity leave four months ago, she had taken to calling him before she went to bed, knowing he would miss her and wanting to feel connected, wanting _him_ to feel connected, to know she was thinking of him and to reassure him that she cared. After returning to duty, she continued the ritual. She really enjoyed their talks and she got the impression he did, too.

Finishing her tea, she turned the television off and headed into the kitchen to put her cup in the sink. Making certain everything was locked up, she turned off the lights and headed down the hall to bedroom. By the time she crawled into bed, it was almost 11:30. She snuggled into her pillows and picked up the phone from the table beside her, dialing the number she knew by heart. _Goren_.

She smiled. She couldn't help it. For a long time now, seeing him, hearing his voice, even just thinking about him often brought a smile to her face. "How do you think it went today?"

A frustrated sigh. _I think the major is right. We're spinning our wheels with these witnesses._

"We have to talk to them."

_I know, I know. But we're not getting anywhere._

She shared his frustration; she always did. "Something will turn up. Have faith."

He snorted. _Right. Um, before we dig in tomorrow, I'd like to go back up to the hospital, to see Kelly._

Why did he want to put himself through that again? "I don't know, Bobby..."

_They called, Eames. She's awake._

"Is she going to be all right?"

_They seem to think so. They said we could talk to her as long as one of her parents is there. I talked to Mrs. Cressmoor and she said we can come by to talk to them at nine. The major will be at work. She promised she wouldn't say a word to him. _

"If he finds out, he's going to blast himself back to the squad room, sputtering and squawking."

She wasn't sure if he sighed or growled, or maybe it was some odd cross between the two. _I am not going to ease up on any part of this investigation to cater to Cressmoor's temper. Being a friend of the chief's doesn't make him a cop and it doesn't give him any say in how we run this investigation._

"Calm down, Bobby. I know."

She recognized the next sound he made as another frustrated sigh. _I'm sorry, Eames. I-I'm tired._

"So go to bed. I'll see you in the morning. You want me to bring the coffee?"

_I'll get it. Sleep well. Good night, Eames._

"Good night, Bobby."

She set the phone in its cradle and pulled the blankets up. She understood his frustration and his anger because she shared it. She wanted to catch this guy as badly as he did. The fact that their investigation was stalled was driving him nuts, and she got that, too. Bobby liked things to keep moving, progressing them toward their goal, and when that forward momentum stopped, he hit a brick wall. It was her job to keep him from continuing to smack his head into it.

Turning onto her side, she snuggled into the bed and reflected how things seemed to have changed since she returned from maternity leave. It wasn't something she could put a finger on. He had been...ecstatic when she returned to work. Gradually she had received reports from different people about how he had coped during her absence. He had...managed, and that was the best anyone could say. He seemed more restless, less controlled. He skirted much closer to the edge than he ever did when she was around. Swinging a pipe at a suspect...she could only imagine what the hell he had been thinking then. And Bishop had been so intimidated by him she had no idea what to do, other than shield the man's daughter from her on-the-edge partner.

It was something Eames never thought about any more. She'd heard the rumors and she'd seen his instability when she first became his partner. But something had happened to him early in their partnership. Just what it was, she had no idea, but he had settled, become more grounded and stable. Her maternity leave had upset his equilibrium and he was finally getting it back. She had no idea just how important she had become to his stability. She just accepted him the way he was, keeping him on an even keel without ever even trying. But she couldn't place a finger on what had changed between them. It wasn't anything bad...not at all. Whatever it was, it had served to draw them closer. She noticed little things. He came a little closer now when he looked over her shoulder to study something, and the sensation of his warm breath over her skin sent a shiver coursing down her spine. He touched her more often, placing a hand against the small of her back when she passed through a doorway ahead of him, or letting his fingers brush across her skin whenever he got the chance. She couldn't remember when his touch had gone from warm and comforting to something laden with an energy that sent a charge coursing through her body. She didn't know what to make of it, and she had no idea if the same thing had happened to him. There was no way she could approach that subject with him either. She was certain he would freak and then there was no telling how long it would take for him to recover his balance. So she let things continue the way they were, escalating within her body and her subconscious, suppressing her responses until the time came, if it ever did, that she could turn them loose.

In the zone between sleep and wakefulness, where awareness faded and the mind could roam free, her thoughts always turned to him. Free from the inhibitions of conscious thought, she wondered what it might be like to love him. What kind of lover would he be? Tender or demanding? Playful or serious? Continuing on its journey down Speculation Lane as she fell deeper into sleep, she imagined a big bed. There was no way a man his size slept in a twin bed. In her dreams, she could feel gentle hands...the soft whisper of his breath across her skin...his mouth, warm and yielding on hers...and so her dreams continued...

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Patrice Cressmoor looked up from her book when the two detectives came into the cubicle where her daughter continued to recover from her assault. In the bed, the little girl looked at them warily. She remained apprehensive until her mother's hand came to rest on her arm. "Hello, detectives," Patrice said with a welcoming smile.

"Hello, Mrs. Cressmoor," Goren said quietly. "This is my partner, Detective Eames."

Patrice held her hand out to Eames. "Thank you both for coming. I appreciate your efforts." She turned to her little girl. "Kelly, these detectives are police officers. They are trying to find the man who hurt you so he can't hurt anyone else."

Eames smiled at her. "Hello, Kelly."

She eased closer to her mother and whispered, "Hi."

Eames looked at Goren and silently traded positions with him. He leaned forward a little and gave her a warm, innocent smile. "Hi, Kelly. I'm Bobby. Would it be okay if we talked to you for a few minutes?"

She studied him silently, but didn't move closer to her mother. He did notice that she had grabbed her mother's hand and was holding tightly onto it. "If you want to stop talking, all you have to do is tell me. Is that okay?"

She nodded slowly. He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a quarter. "Watch," he said softly. He held the quarter up and made it disappear from his hand. "Where'd it go?"

She sat forward and looked at the bedsheets, but she didn't see it. Her eyes turned back to him, questioning. He reached his hand forward and pointed toward the side of her head. "Look there..."

Reaching slowly toward her, he brushed his hand past her ear and pulled it back, the quarter in his hand. Too intrigued to be frightened, she giggled. He handed her the quarter. She closed her hand around it and smiled, her unease fading. He lowered himself onto the edge of the bed, so as not to tower above her. "Is it okay if we talk now?"

She nodded. Folding his hands together, he rested them on his leg. She pointed toward his jacket. "Is that a _real _badge?"

With a smile, he slipped it off his jacket and held it out to her. "Yes, it is. Here. You can hold it while we talk, if you want to."

She took it from him and ran her fingers over it, smiling. He studied her bruised face and he felt another pang of guilt and regret that they weren't any closer to finding her assailant. In spite of her father's difficult behavior, this seemed to be a very sweet child. "Kelly? Can you tell me what happened to you in the park Sunday?"

The smile faded from her face and both hands clasped his badge tightly. "Gloria took me to play in the park. We had a ball and we played catch. Then a boy came over to play with us. My ball bounced into the bushes and I ran to get it. Gloria came, too, so I wouldn't get lost. And the boy came. When I went to pick up my ball, he hurt Gloria and then he hurt me."

"A boy? Not a man?"

"Well, he was bigger than me and Gloria, but not old like Daddy."

Goren suppressed a smirk. "Um, did he have any hair on his face?"

"You mean here?"

She rubbed her cheeks and her mouth. "Yes. A beard or a moustache."

She shook her head. "No. But he had glasses."

"Dark glasses? Like these?"

He pulled out his sunglasses. She shook her head. "No. Not dark." She pointed to the lenses. "They had no colors."

He slipped them back inside his jacket. "What about his hair, Kelly?"

"He had hair like hers." She pointed to Eames. "But it was longer. And he had a ponytail."

"Um, can you tell us what he was wearing?"

She looked thoughtful. "A white shirt and blue pants, like Mommy's."

Her mother was wearing jeans. "What kind of white shirt, honey? Like mine, or a t-shirt?"

"Like yours, but the buttons just came to here."

She leaned forward and touched the middle of his chest. He nodded. Jeans and a polo shirt...not sweats. "Okay. Do you remember anything else? Like his shoes?"

"He had sneakers on."

"That's very good, Kelly. You remembered a lot. Could you tell if Gloria knew this boy?"

She nodded. "She knew his name." She frowned, concentrating. "I don't remember it."

"But you're sure she knew him?"

She nodded again. He looked over his shoulder at Eames, who finished writing what the child had said and met his eyes. They each saw the anger in the other's gaze. Turning back to the little girl, all trace of anger gone from his expression, he said, "You did great, Kelly. You helped us alot. Thank you."

He stood up. She held his badge out to him. He took it and gently touched her cheek with a finger, giving her a smile. Sliding the badge back onto his jacket, he looked at Patrice. "Thank you for letting us talk to her, Mrs. Cressmoor. She really was a big help. We'll keep you informed of what we find."

"Thank you for coming by, detectives. And for your kindness."

Kelly was studying the quarter in her hand. Goren smiled. "If there's anything we can do, let us know. We'll be in touch."

They started toward the doorway. "Bobby?"

He turned back to look at the little girl. "Yes, Kelly?"

"Will you come see me again?"

She studied her for a moment before he nodded. "Sure we will. You rest so you can get better. Bye."

She waved and smiled at him. He smiled back then turned and followed his partner from the room. As they headed toward the elevators, Eames leaned toward him. "Another female admirer to add to your collection." She laughed at the flush that touched his cheeks. "Speaking of which, we probably ought to pay Gloria another visit."

He sighed and nodded. "Exactly what I was thinking."

The elevator doors opened and they waited for people to step off it. The last person off the car, however, was Hugo Cressmoor. He froze when he saw them. Goren and Eames both groaned softly. Cressmoor's face darkened. "What are you doing here?"

Quietly, Goren answered, "Our job, major."

"I don't appreciate you talking to my daughter alone."

Knowing he was close behind her, Eames slid a hand behind her back and touched Goren. She didn't care where her hand landed; it shut him up. "We weren't alone with her, major. Your wife was there."

"How did you know Kelly was awake?"

"Your wife called us. We got good information from Kelly and we are going to follow up on that now. So, please excuse us, major." She was not about to prolong the conversation or wait for the elevator to come back, so she headed down the hall. She turned the corner and looked back at her partner, instinctively knowing he would be behind her. "Shall we find another elevator or take the stairs up six flights?"

"Whatever you want to do, Eames."

His brain was still recovering from the shock of finding her hand resting against the top of his thigh a few moments ago. He got that she didn't want him in another verbal sparring match with Cressmoor, but his brain just about short-circuited when her hand pressed into his thigh like that. He had been totally focused on the major until she unexpectedly came into contact with him. He prayed she didn't hear him gasp, and he certainly hoped Cressmoor hadn't noticed. When she'd taken off down the hall, taking her hand with her, he found he could still function, though marginally. Following her was about all he was able to do right then. But he was recovering, and by the time they stopped outside Gloria's room, he was fine.

Eames knocked on the door and they stepped into the room. It was empty.


	5. Frustration

They headed out to the nurses' station. The unit secretary looked up and Eames said, "We are looking for Gloria Harrison."

"Room 841."

"We were just there. She's not there." She could sense Goren's restlessness as he shifted behind her.

The secretary looked over her shoulder. "Janice, is Gloria Harrison down in x-ray or something?"

"No. She's in her room."

"These detectives were just there. They say she's not."

Janice came around the desk and walked past the two detectives back toward Gloria's room. "That's ridiculous. I was just in there."

"So were we," Eames replied.

It was beginning to look like Gloria was the key to this investigation and Goren did not like the way this was shaping up. They followed the nurse into the empty hospital room and watched her search the room. When she looked under the bed, Goren left the room. Eames shook her head and asked the nurse, "Any idea where she is?"

She already knew the answer before Janice shook her head. "No. Maybe she went down to the cafeteria."

Eames handed her a card. "Call us when she turns up. We need to speak to her."

The nurse looked at the card. "I will, detective."

Eames left the room in search of her partner. She found him pacing in front of the elevators, waiting for her. As soon as she came into sight, he stabbed the down button with his finger and continued pacing. He kept eyeing the stairwell until Eames said, "Don't even think about it. I am not chasing you down eight flights of stairs."

"We should check the cafeteria and the gift shop."

"Don't you think she would have told her nurse if she was leaving the floor?"

"Not necessarily. I didn't always."

"You are the exception, Bobby. Not the rule."

That coaxed a smile from him, and he pushed the button again. Finally the door opened and they got onto the elevator. She watched him shift impatiently and said, "Settle down, Goren. Bouncing like that won't make the elevator run any faster but you are going to annoy me, so hold still."

He stopped moving, and now looked like he was going to explode. She shook her head. "Go ahead and bounce."

He tilted his head and smiled. As soon as the door opened, he was off, heading for the cafeteria. She trotted after him, catching him at the doors that entered the food service area. She grabbed his arm. "You want me to chase you through the hospital?"

He huffed impatiently. "I'm sorry, Eames. I--If she's here, we need to find her."

"And if she's not?"

"We still need to find her."

She followed him through the grill area and past the cashiers, into the cafeteria proper. Gloria was nowhere to be seen. They spent another half hour searching the common areas of the hospital before she finally convinced him to give it up. They had a witness waiting for them back at the squad room and Deakins had already called her twice. She sighed. It was going to be a long day.

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Her instinct had been spot on; it had been a very long day. Goren was itching to head out and try to find Gloria, even though Deakins had put a couple of other detectives on it. He resented being stuck in the squad all day long interviewing witnesses who hadn't seen a thing when there were more important things that needed to be done. Eames had been hard pressed to keep him even marginally settled. It had not helped when Cressmoor had called and Goren had answered the phone. The major accused them of chasing Gloria off. He didn't want to hear that they had not seen her. Then he had called the captain, complaining that the two detectives had talked to his daughter without his consent and then traumatized the nanny to the point that she had run away from the hospital. Eames sent Goren out for coffee so he could burn off some of that energy he seemed to have in endless supply, and she set the captain straight about the morning's events. Deakins had called the major back, but Eames left the office. That was one conversation she did _not_ want to hear.

Goren had finally convinced his partner to go home just before ten. Now, nearing midnight, he closed the last file and dropped it onto the stack to his left. Well, at least she wouldn't come in tomorrow to a mound of paperwork, as she had been dreading when she left. It was just a small thing for him to do, but she would appreciate it. Leaning back, he scrubbed his hands over his face and sighed wearily. He hadn't left the squadroom until nearly two last night, and he was in by six...but he wasn't about to tell that to her. God, he was tired...but the image of that sweet little girl, laying in that hospital bed bruised and beaten, haunted him, and he was determined to find justice for her.

He and Eames agreed that they needed to interview Jeffrey and his friends as soon as possible, so he'd called the principal at the school to set it up. After assuring her none of the boys were suspects in anything and this was not an interrogation, she reluctantly agreed to a Friday morning meeting, as long as she could be present. He agreed to that. He had wanted to talk to the boys that afternoon, but the entire school was participating in testing and the principal said they could not talk to them until Friday, unless they wanted to do it outside of school. The last thing they needed was to try and get consent to interview Jeffrey from his father...at least not before it was necessary. Goren was fairly well convinced Jeffrey was not involved; Kelly would have recognized her brother. But he was hoping that Jeffrey might be able to clue them in on Gloria's whereabouts or, at the very least, identify some of her friends. He was tired of running in circles and not getting anywhere.

Leaning back in his chair, he rubbed his temples, running over the days events in his mind. He had enjoyed talking to Kelly. She was smart, sweet and very cute. He appreciated Mrs. Cressmoor and her understanding. Running into the major had only served to annoy him, but when Eames had attempted to shut him up by pressing her hand into his thigh...God...his damn brain shut off and he didn't quite know what to make of that. Then, when they found Gloria missing, well, that set the tone for the rest of the day and now he was exausted. His phone rang and he pulled it out of his pocket, flipping it open. "Goren."

_Hey,_ came his partner's soft voice. _When did you finally cut out?_

He looked around the room. "Uh, well..."

_Bobby, don't tell me you're still at work._

"Okay, I won't."

_What are you doing there so late?_

"Paperwork."

_Paperwork? It's after midnight._

"Is it? Well, we're all caught up now anyway."

_Why did you do that?_

He could hear the tone in her voice that mingled disbelief and gratitude. It was a tone he often heard from her, and one he liked. It meant he had done something right. He leaned back in his chair and looked at the distant ceiling. "I stick you with the paperwork often enough, Eames. It's not a big deal." He sighed wearily and changed the subject. "What are you doing? You usually call earlier."

_I lost track of the time. A glass or two of wine and a nice, hot bath can do that to you._

He groaned to himself at the image her words conjured, and his mind swore at his body, which had its own ideas about things, after reprimanding his mouth for asking her what she was doing, which started the whole thing...

_Bobby? Are you still there?_

"Yeah. I'm still here," he answered as his exhausted mind conjured unwanted images of her, wet and naked..._oh, hell_...

_Go home, Goren,_ she said gently. _You're exhausted and even you need _some_ sleep. I'll bring breakfast in the morning._

"Sounds like a plan. I'll buy lunch."

_Great. I'll make it a light breakfast._ He laughed softly. Her voice remained gentle as she said, _Good night, Bobby._

"Good night, Eames."

He closed the phone and tossed it onto the desk. He tried to remember how long ago his body had developed its own agenda where Eames was concerned, finally ignoring his mind's repeated admonitions that she was his _partner_ and he was not going to screw that up. Of course, that led him down a slippery slope lined with guilt as he wondered how many times he'd called Denise or one of his other casual dates, using them to satisfy his body's response to a passion inspired by another. When had this overwhelming preoccupation with her taken over his body and his mind? What could he do? Screwing his partner wasn't an option, although just the thought of it was enough to send a jolt like an electric charge through his body. Ultimately, he was left with few options. He'd call Denise tomorrow and see if she was busy this weekend. He wondered if she was beginning to suspect the depth of his attachment to Eames. But...what was there to suspect? He wasn't even sure just how he felt about her, and that drove him nearly as nuts as his body's rebellion did. He slowly sat up. Great...now he had a headache, too...He leaned forward and rested his head on folded arms on his desk, just for a few minutes. _Damn_...

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He opened his locker and pulled out the clean suit he kept in there, dressing quickly. That's what he got for putting his head down for five minutes. Five minutes became five hours and before he knew it, Sanchez was waking him up from a disturbing dream and now his back was in knots. He'd come down to the locker room to shower and change. By the time he got back up to the squadroom, Eames was there. A brown paper bag and cup of coffee were on his desk and she was grinning in triumph. "Beat you," she said, certain she'd arrived at the squadroom before him.

He was content to let it slide so she could have what she viewed as a victory, but Sanchez heard her and laughed. "Not even, Eames. He was sleeping at his desk when I came in at six."

Goren shot an annoyed glare at him. Sanchez grinned and turned back to his desk. With an aggravated shake of his head, Goren turned around to face his partner. She was giving him her _what did you do now_ look. "I thought you were going home."

He shrugged. "I fell asleep. It happens."

She studied him. "Do I have to take you home myself to make sure you go?"

He laughed softly. "Stop worrying, Eames. Other than a sore back, I'm fine. I probably got more sleep than I would have at home, anyway."

There was no probably about it. If he'd gone home, by the time he got there, he would have been wide awake. It would have taken another hour or two for him to wind down and finally sleep...or a couple of beers and he would have crashed on the couch in front of the television.

He pulled out a list from his binder and said, "We've got eight witnesses scheduled for today..."

She sighed and took the paper he held out to her. He could be so frustrating sometimes...


	6. Investigation Stalled

Goren had the stack of witness interviews piled in front of him and he was reviewing them, hoping they had missed something but knowing they had not. He reached toward the phone when it rang, hoping it was the hospital and trying not to wince when the muscles in his back protested the movement. It was his own damn fault. "Goren."

_Have you made any further progress, detective?_

He swallowed his irritation. "No, Major Cressmoor," he said, glancing at his partner, who rolled her eyes. "We have not. Have you been able to find your nanny?"

_My _daughter's _nanny, and no, I have not._

"Have you been looking, sir?"

_You are the detective. Have you been looking?_

"When we haven't been bogged down with witnesses who didn't see anything, we have," he snapped. He had been irritable all day and he really didn't feel up to another argument with Cressmoor. "Hold on a second, major." He put the call on hold and looked up at Eames. "Can you take this, Eames?"

She nodded, picking up the phone and watching Goren get up and head out of the squad room. She hated it when he got like this. He needed to rest and he wasn't letting himself do that. She pressed the blinking line. "This is Detective Eames, major. What can I do for you?"

"Teach your partner some manners, for one."

Between the two of them, they had her feeling like banging her head against the wall. "And who will teach you manners?"

Maybe it wasn't professional, but she was tired and cranky, too, and it sure made her feel better to say it. It was gratifying to hear the man sputter on the other end of the phone. "Put your partner back on," he demanded.

"I'm sorry, but he stepped out of the office. Major Cressmoor, I am very tired of listening to you berate and insult my partner. _You _are the one who brought us in on this case. We are doing our best to find this guy, and you are not helping our investigation. If you want us to find Kelly's assailant, stop harrassing us and find out where Gloria is. We really need to talk to her again. Now, if you don't mind, I am going to go back to work so that we can get some justice for your little girl by finding the man who hurt her. If you have anything to add to the investigation, please call us. If not, then please leave us alone. Let us know as soon as you find Gloria. Have a nice afternoon."

She set the phone in its cradle and sighed, placing her face in her hands and trying to get her irritation back under control. It wasn't easy. After a few long minutes, a soft voice reached her ears. "Eames?" Slowly, she uncovered her eyes to look at Goren. His face was openly concerned. "Was he an ass?"

"He's always an ass, Bobby. But I'm afraid the captain is going to be getting a call. I wasn't exactly..."

"Eames!"

She smiled at him. "See? I'll be right back."

He watched her head toward the captain's office. Maybe he should have just handled the call. But he was at the end of his rope with Cressmoor and he'd hoped Eames could have calmed him down. Now he felt guilty about it. She didn't deserve that. Well, he wasn't going to foist the major off on her again. He was used to being in trouble and she didn't need that kind of stress. After all, she had him.

Deakins looked up at her as she came into the room. "What did you do?"

"I just told him to let us do our job. If he's going to interfere with the investigation, we'll never get this guy. We got the best information we have from Kelly, and it contradicts the information we got from the nanny, who is still MIA. Major Cressmoor is not cooperating and it's frustrating. On top of that, I'm just tired of the way he treats Goren. Bobby didn't do anything to deserve that. I'd had enough and I let him know it."

Deakins sighed. "Next time, take it out on your partner, okay? My ear is still ringing."

"Sorry, captain."

He smiled. "I know he deserved it, Alex. Just try to remember who he is. He has the chief's ear and I don't need the chief on my back."

She nodded. "If he'll quit hindering our investigation and being rude to us, I'll have no reason to tell him off."

"How many more interviews do you guys have today?"

"Four."

"Well, get them done and go home. Get some sleep; you both need it."

"I'll pass that on." She headed out of the office. It was no lie that they both needed some rest. Convincing Goren of that, however, was another matter entirely.

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At the end of their first interview after lunch, Goren left the room while Eames finished up with the woman. He was just being distracting and that annoyed him today. He was beyond frustrated and he was fed up with dealing with Cressmoor, more than anything else. He wanted to solve this case and move on, and he wasn't taking it too well that the investigation was stalled. He went to his desk and shuffled through papers, looking for his notes on their talk with Kelly, the only productive part of the entire case. "Bobby?"

He looked up and smiled. "Hi, Denise."

She leaned against his desk and crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm assuming you misunderstood me when I asked you not to piss off Major Cressmoor?"

He looked down at his hands. "I, uh, I tried, Denise. I don't intend to, but he keeps misconstruing the things we do and say."

"You didn't really go to talk to his daughter without his consent, did you?"

"We didn't need his consent. We had her mother's, and she was right there the whole time."

"Why did the little girl's nanny take off?"

"We have no idea."

"You didn't chase her off?"

"On the contrary. She seemed very interested in seeing more of us. You can ask Eames. But the things she told us did not mesh with what we got from the little girl. Eames and I think she heard Kelly was awake and she got scared because she lied to us."

Denise sighed. "I told the chief not to get bent out of shape until I had a chance to talk to you and Alex. The major struck me as just a little histrionic, and I couldn't imagine you two doing the things he claims."

"Well, Eames _did _tell him off."

She smiled and he was charmed, as always. "I'm sure he deserved that. Alex doesn't fly off the handle and lose her temper easily."

"No, she doesn't." He raised his eyebrows. "You think I do?"

She laid a hand on his shoulder as she stepped away from the desk. "No, dear. But sometimes you can...come across the wrong way." She gently touched his chin. "Well, I won't tell you not to piss him off again...that apparently doesn't work."

He laughed softly and turned back to his files as she started away from the desk. "Oh, Denise?" She looked over her shoulder. "Are you busy Saturday night?"

She thought for a moment before shaking her head. "No."

"Want to get some dinner?"

"Sure, Bobby. Sounds like fun."

"I'll pick you up at seven?"

"It's a date."

He winked at her and turned back to his desk as she headed for the elevators.

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After their last witness for the day had left, he remained in the conference room with the paperwork. Eames went for coffee and he let himself become engrossed in what he was doing. It kept his mind from his discomfort and his frustration, among other things. His thoughts kept returning to the conversation he'd had with Denise and from there they would stray to Eames and then his head would spin...so he buried himself in the pile of useless interviews in front of him.

He had become so engrossed in what he was doing, he did not notice when Eames returned with their coffee. Without thinking, he stretched his back and, convinced he was alone, groaned softly. He damn near pulled a muscle when her hands came to rest on his shoulders and began to knead his sore muscles. His first impulse was to move away, but once again, his body rebelled against his mind and remained resolutely where it was. Of course, then his mind all but shut down as sore and tired muscles relaxed beneath her hands. At that point, he knew he'd died and gone to Heaven. Her hands did wonders for his back, but what was more, they were _her_ hands.

He had no idea how much time had passed before she leaned over his shoulder and her breath, warm and scented with coffee, whispered past his ear. "Go home, Bobby. Have a few beers, unwind and get some good sleep. And leave these damn files in your desk. We don't have squat right now and reading over them a hundred times will not change that."

By then, he would have done anything she had asked. So he did go home and he left the files in his desk. He had a few beers and she called early, on his home line, to be certain he actually did go home and had not returned to the squad room. He promised he was home to stay and he would see her in the morning. Reassured, she said good night and left him to sleep, which he did...and there were no nightmares...just her...


	7. Something Different

_You can kiss me in the moonlight  
On the rooftop under the sky  
You can kiss me with the windows open  
While the rain comes pouring inside  
Kiss me in sweet slow motion  
Let's let every thing slide  
You got me floating, you got me flying _

_It's the way you love me  
It's a feeling like this  
It's centrifugal motion  
It's perpetual bliss_

_It's that pivotal moment  
It's subliminal  
This kiss, this kiss (It's Criminal)  
This kiss, this kiss_

_--------This Kiss, by Faith Hill_

**A/N: This whole story began as an inspiration from this exerpt of this song, then I added the casefile and went from there... **_  
_---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Eames stopped at a red light after leaving the high school where Jeffrey Cressmoor was a student. "I don't miss that."

"You don't?"

"Don't tell me you _liked _high school."

"Some aspects of it, I did. And...well, it wasn't home."

She looked at him, but he'd looked away, out the window. That was about all she was going to get out of him on the subject. _It wasn't home..._ It was enough; it spoke volumes to her, and she understood. She accelerated through the intersection on the green. "So what do you think?"

"About?"

"Jeff and his friends."

"Like father, like son."

There had been no doubt which boy was Jeffrey Cressmoor. The resemblance to his father was striking, particularly when he opened his mouth. He had his father's condescending attitude, although his tone had changed when they started talking about Kelly. Maybe he was jealous of his little sister, but it was clear that he loved her, too.

Eames had taken charge of the questioning and Goren had stood back, letting her. He tossed out a few questions, but overall, he had just watched and let her handle the boys. Jeffrey, in particular, was less hostile toward her. The major had always been, too, until she told him off yesterday. But it was Goren's opinion that Cressmoor would get over it. In his experience, it was impossible to stay mad at Eames.

He opened his binder and looked at the list Jeffrey had given them. He knew a handful of Gloria's friends, and he had no idea where she had gone. He'd thought she was still in the hospital. So he provided the names of the four friends of hers he knew and the neighborhoods he thought they lived in, but he wasn't sure. They would have to do the detective work, he'd smirked.

They'd had better interviews, Goren reflected. But not this week. At least this one hadn't been totally pointless. They now had a few names to investigate, and he felt better about that. And Jeff had seemed genuinely angry when he realized they were thinking that Gloria may have known their attacker, and she had not said one word about it. Who was she protecting, when Kelly was laying in the ICU after being badly beaten...by someone Gloria knew? No...that just was not right, and Goren agreed with that.

Cressmoor was going to throw a major fit about this development, and Goren made up his mind not to tell him. If Deakins wanted him to know, he could tell him. And he was not going to let Eames do it, either. No, he still felt guilty about turning the major over to her yesterday and getting her in trouble. He wasn't going to let that happen again. The last thing he ever wanted was to cause his partner any more grief than he already did. He tried steering his thoughts in another direction, but they lingered stubbornly on her.

He jumped when her fingers brushed across his temple. Looking around, he was surprised to see they were back in the parking garage at 1 PP. "Welcome back. Penny for your thoughts?" she said, teasing.

He slid out of the car, shoved his hand in his pocket and tossed a quarter to her. "Here's a quarter not to ask," he replied with a small smile.

She laughed, shoving her shoulder into him as she met him near the front bumper of the car. His hand rested briefly against her back before she stepped away, out of range, and he let her go. His eyes strayed over her as she walked ahead of him and he softly sighed. Too bad dreams had a habit of not coming true, and it was not often he thought _that_.

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Goren sat at his desk, staring into space, tapping his pen on the pad in front of him. A balled-up piece of paper bounced off his chest, not for the first time that afternoon, and he looked at his partner, who asked, "What is with you this afternoon?"

He smiled and tossed the paper back at her. "Nothing, other than I keep getting beaned with paper balls."

She laughed and said, "Looks like another late day. We have two more interviews to get through before we can go home. What do you want to do for dinner?"

"I've got it covered."

"Great. What are we having?"

"It's a surprise."

"Bobby..."

"Trust me," he cajoled.

"'Said the spider to the fly.'"

"Are you calling me a spider, Eames?"

"No. Just a pest. It better be good."

He turned his attention back to the form in front of him with a smile.

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She stepped out of the conference room fifteen minutes after the last witness left. _What an idiot!_ She shook her head in disbelief...some witness. She glanced at the time...8:48. Looking around the squad room, she was a little annoyed to find no sign of her partner. He was supposed to have gone to get dinner while she finished up with the idiot witness who couldn't even remember being in the park on Sunday. Taking the witness list from Goren's desk, she scanned the comments they had been jotting down as reminders of which witnesses might prove helpful if they ever got an accurate description of the assailant. She found this guy's name and beside it she printed _not even_. _Moron_. She wondered which poison was the guy's choice to fry his brain cells as she dropped into her chair to wait for Goren. Whichever it was, there weren't too many viable cells left in the man's grey matter.

Geez, it had been a long week; this had better be a damn good dinner. She was starving. She pulled a blank form from her desk and put it down in front of her..._Hello? What's this?_ She picked up a small envelope that had been set in the center of her desk, where she would be sure to see it. She was surprised by the weight of it. Opening it, she dumped out a key. _A key? To what?_ Sliding out a piece of folded paper, she opened it, recognizing her partner's printing: _Eames, Take the south stairwell up to the roof. This key will unlock the roof access door on the 15th floor. I have something to show you._

Something to show her? On the roof? She sighed impatiently. She was exhausted and starving, and he wanted to play games? What was wrong with him? She sighed...ah, well, it never took much effort to humor Bobby. She headed for the south stairwell. This better be worth four flights of stairs.

She pushed the door open and stepped out onto the roof. It was breezy and cool, but fairly mild for late March. She took a deep breath of the fresh spring air; it was actually a really nice night. The area was lit by the subdued glow of the city, very pleasant. Stepping away from the stairwell, she let the door close behind her. When she heard it click, she hoped it had not locked, or if it did, that the key in her pocket would unlock it. If she got stuck on the roof, with or without him, she was going to throttle him. She got a sudden image of a practical joke and imagined how quickly it would get around the building if she got stuck up here all night, but she quickly quashed the thought. This was Bobby Goren. Although he was not above practical jokes, his pranks were at least a step or two above locking someone on the roof all night. There were other yahoos in the squad whose preferred jokelines ran in that direction...and she would knock the crap out of every single one of them if she had to call her partner to get her off the roof. But no...that _was _Bobby's handwriting...

"Eames." She turned toward his voice. He motioned to her. "Come over here."

He had removed his suit jacket and tie and his sleeves were rolled up not quite to his elbows. The top two buttons of his shirt were open and he looked...casual...and, cursing herself for thinking it, sexy. She followed him to the southeast corner of the building, where a card table had been set with a white linen tablecloth and dinner for two. Somehow--she wasn't sure how--he had slipped behind her and now he spoke softly, his breath caressing her ear and drawing an involuntary shiver from her. "I thought you'd like something a little different from our usual take-out."

She turned her head to look over her shoulder at him, caught off guard by how close he stood to her. She caught a whiff of his cologne on the breeze and for a moment, she could think of nothing to do except look at him. Recovering, she asked, "Why the roof?"

"It's a nice night and it's quiet here. No one will bother us."

His hand came to rest against the small of her back, and he guided her to the table where he pulled out her chair and waited for her to sit. She was used to his manners and his unpredictability, but this time he had outdone himself. He took the cover from the dish in the center of the table and leaned over to switch on the stereo he'd set up nearby.

Smiling at the delight on her face, he eased himself into the chair opposite her. She met his eyes. "Chicken cacciatore?" He simply nodded as he spooned the meal onto her plate and then his own. "Bobby, how did you do this?"

He shrugged, eyes glowing. "Eat your dinner, Eames, before it gets cold."

She took a bite. "Where did you get this?"

"You like it?"

"It's amazing. Where'd you go? Emilio's?"

"Um, no. My place."

"You...you made this?"

"Why so surprised? You know I can cook. It took a little longer but I thought you deserved a good meal."

"So you took the time and effort to do all this...for me?"

A modest shrug. "Like I said, I thought you deserved it...especially after I dumped the major on you yesterday."

"Bobby..." Words failed her. "Thank you."

She was rewarded with a smile, one of the rare smiles he seemed to reserve only for her. The meal proceeded mostly in companionable silence as she savored the food and he savored her company.

The music was a nice touch, her favorite soft rock station. How did he get this so perfect? Why did it still surprise her that he paid attention to the small details, especially considering how extra attentive he'd been since she'd had the baby? He always noticed the details. She knew she was important to him, so why should it surprise her that he knew her favorite food, her favorite station and exactly how to set things up so that she would like it? The roof...who would ever have thought of having dinner on the roof of the police headquarters building? Bobby would. Thoughtful, considerate, unconventional...always thinking outside the box.

She could feel herself unwinding, relaxing and thoroughly enjoying being with him. Reaching toward her, he tentatively ran two fingers along the back of her hand. Silently, she caught her breath, amazed at how a simple touch could send such a tremor through her body. Again, she wondered when things between them had changed, when his touch had become electrifying to her. She looked up to meet his eyes. When had those dark eyes begun causing her to tremble inside? Softly, hesitantly, he said, "I, um...would you like to, uh, dance with me?"

Dance? With him? _Oh, God..._the last time she'd danced with him, at the squad Christmas party three months ago, her insides had turned to jelly. She had hesitated even to attend, but Bobby had talked her into it. Only a month post-partum, she hadn't yet gotten her body back, and she was uncertain, but he was persistent and she had finally agreed. She'd danced with half the guys in the squad before he had claimed her. Her voice failed at the mere thought of being in his arms again...painfully close...and she had no control over her head as it nodded agreement to his tentative request. She didn't quite understand his nervousness. He was a great dancer. Could it be he knew how much she loved to dance with him?

He stood up and held out his hand, which she took as she stepped into his arms. His left hand held hers as his right slid around to rest lightly against her side. The radio played softly in the background as he began to lead her in cadence with the quiet song.

_I see the questions in your eyes  
I know what's weighing on your mind  
You can be sure I know my part  
Cause I stand beside you through the years  
You'll only cry those happy tears  
And though I make mistakes  
I'll never break your heart_

She lost track entirely of the world around her and wondered if the same thing happened to him. She let him lead her where he would; she'd have let him lead her over the side of the building had he been so inclined. Her trust in him was complete.

_And I swear by the moon  
And the stars in the sky I'll be there  
I swear like the shadow that's by your side I'll be there_

With each step, she unconsciously inched closer to him. Slowly, he drew her hand in, toward their bodies, keyed in to her response to him. His hand slid its way from her side, along her back as she drew closer. Gently, on an impulse, he pressed her hand to his lips and she caught her breath on a sigh.

_For better or worse  
Till death do us part  
I'll love you with every beat of my heart  
And I swear_

She closed her eyes, leaning in to rest her head against his chest. She felt his cheek come to rest against her head as his right hand moved in a gentle caress against the skin of her back, where her shirt didn't quite meet the top of her slacks.

_I'll give you every thing I can  
I'll build your dreams with these two hands  
We'll hang some memories on the wall  
And when (and when) just the two of us are there  
You won't have to ask if I still care  
Cause as the time turns the page  
My love won't age at all_

She sighed softly, content to stay right there, for as long as he would let her. Forever would be nice.

He let his lips brush across her head when she sighed. He enjoyed the feel of her soft skin under his fingers, the scent of gardenia permeating her hair, the gentle pressure of her head against his chest. For the second time in as many days, he felt like he was in Heaven. He closed his hand more firmly over hers and pressed it into his shoulder. Having her this close, in his arms, against his body, was almost too much for him. He never wanted to let her go. Here she was safe from everything they faced on a daily basis; here he could take care of her because she would let him. Here, and only here, she was his.

She had no idea how much time had passed or how many songs had been played, but the words of the next one struck her and the only thing that came to mind was the answer she would give him if he asked. It was yes.

_I'll always remember the song they were playin'  
The first time we danced and I knew  
As we swayed to the music and held to each other  
I fell in love with you_

_Could I have this dance for the rest of my life  
Would you be my partner in bed every night  
When we're together it feels so right  
Could I have this dance for the rest of my life_

_I'll always remember that magic moment  
When I held you close to me  
As we moved together, I knew forever  
You're all I'll ever need._

Following his lead, she gently moved her hand to caress his side and his back through the fabric of his shirt. When her fingers traced a gentle line just above his belt, he drew an uneven breath. She moved half a step closer, bringing their bodies into full contact. She slowly moved her body against his and he groaned. Softly, he whispered, "God...you're killing me, Eames."

Opening her eyes, she turned her face up toward his, meeting his dark eyes, which glowed with a desire he could no longer hide. He moved his face closer, lightly touching his lips to hers. When she didn't pull away, he deepened the kiss, releasing her hand to slide his along her neck and under her hair to cradle her head. Willingly, she parted her lips, allowing his tongue entry.

She lost herself in the depths of the kiss, and her mind quit working entirely, never wanting this moment to end. Time stood still for both of them. She shifted her body, pressing it more firmly into his, confirming that he was in the same state that she was.

With a soft gasp, he broke the kiss and stepped back, away from her. His breathing was ragged and he looked uncertain, embarrassed. "I, uh..." his voice was a hoarse whisper. "I really...better leave."

Before she could recover her senses and object, he was halfway across the roof, and then he was gone.

* * *

**A/N: _I_ _Swear_ by All-4-One and _Could_ _I_ _Have_ _This_ _Dance_ by Anne Murray. Both songs fit so well and since I couldn't choose between them, I encorporated both...**

* * *


	8. Freaking Out

By the time she recovered from his kiss, he was gone and she was confused. Where the hell did he go? And why? Once again, he caught her totally off guard with his intensity and unpredictability. She would never have guessed he'd take off like that. Well, maybe, if she had reacted differently when he kissed her. But she gave him nothing but encouragement...

She sat down and tried to regain her senses. What he had done to her...wow...that was something else she would never have predicted. As many kisses as she had been a party to...there were none like that in her memory, and something like that she would have remembered!

What she just just wasn't getting was why he freaked out. Now, if she had been the one to kiss him, then, yes, she would have expected that reaction, especially from him. But he had been the one to kiss her. His confusion and embarrassment were...unexpected. Now, she had to do damage control. _Dammit_.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Goren hit the stairs and kept going, not stopping until he got to the parking garage. God help him, he'd just kissed his partner. What the hell had he been thinking? Okay, he hadn't been thinking...he'd been...reacting...and what a reaction..._Oh, God..._

All he'd wanted to do was give her a nice dinner and help to relieve some of the week's stress for her, especially after he'd made her deal with Cressmoor. It had been such a long and frustrating week. He remembered how, back in December, she had relaxed in his arms when he'd danced with her at the Christmas party. She'd been worried about being a month post-partum and not back to her normal self. He'd thought she was perfect. When she had danced with him, all her worries seemed to fade, and he'd wanted to recreate that for her, if he could. He had not forgotten how much he'd enjoyed it either. Of course, the circumstances had been different. Very different.

Everything had been fine...until she stepped into him. The way she had moved against him sent him reeling. He had no idea what had possessed him to kiss her, but she had not withdrawn. He didn't know what to make of that, but...he'd kissed her! How far out of line had he stepped? He had no business coming anywhere near the line that separated partner from lover. And there was no taking it back, either. But...if given the chance, would he? He felt that, yes, he would have to, but a large part of him, if he were honest with himself, said no. He'd go to his grave with that kiss burned into his memory.

He was halfway home when the phone rang, but he ignored it. He was still reeling and he couldn't talk to her. How could he apologize to her? Should he even try? He didn't know how to even begin to interpret her response to him. She..._oh, God_...She was his partner, the best partner he'd ever had, and now he'd put that partnership in jeopardy. How could he have done that? And he had no idea what to do or how he could ever manage to fix it.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It probably wasn't the brightest idea, but, several hours later, a mostly-empty bottle of scotch on the table in front of him, he answered the phone. "It's about damn time!" she scolded. "Where are you?"

"Home."

"How long have you been there?"

"I, uh, don't know. I...stopped off someplace before I got here."

"Someplace where?"

"Does it matter, Eames?"

Now was not the time to argue with him. "I guess not. Why haven't you answered your phone?"

"I-I had no idea what to...to say."

"Hello is usually a good start."

Confused, he muttered, "What?"

Ok, she wasn't going to get him with humor... "Bobby, are you okay?"

He looked at the tumbler of scotch in his hand. "I'm okay."

"Why did you take off like that?"

"I, uh, I should not have...done that."

"I agree. There was no reason for you to run away."

He paused, confused again. "N-no, Eames. Not that. I should...never have kissed you. I'm...s-sorry. I shouldn't have put you in that situation."

"What situation? If I recall correctly, I didn't object."

No, she didn't...but she should have. "I...you should have."

"Why, Bobby?"

He leaned his head back, watching the room spin past him. He was not in any condition for this conversation. "You...just should have."

She exhaled in exasperation. "Can I come over?"

"I, uh, I don't think that would be a very good idea right now."

"Why not?"

What was going through her head? She had to know he'd been drinking...and there was no way he was going to even be in the same room with her right now... "I..I can't."

"Can't what?"

He closed his eyes. "I just.._can't_. Good night, Eames."

He closed the phone, tossing it across the room onto the easy chair. He topped off his glass, spilling as much on the table as he got in the glass. Oh, God...what had he done?

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The door opened, spilling light into the dark room. Eames eased herself quietly into the apartment. She turned on a tabletop lamp before closing the front door. She stood there for a moment, watching him sleep. Why did he have to make things so difficult? He kissed her...it wasn't a catastrophe, but he acted like it was. She _let _him kiss her...it wasn't a mistake, but he seemed to think she should have slugged him.

She approached the couch and gently fingered his hair. He didn't move, but she didn't expect him to. In spite of his objections, she had come over to make sure he was all right, and she was relieved to find him sleeping. Of course, the empty bottle on the coffee table had a lot to do with it, but maybe he'd have a clearer perspective when he woke up. _Yeah,_ _right_. In order for him to get a clear perspective, she was going to have to knock some sense into him first. _What an idiot_...but she loved him.

She walked to the hall closet and got a blanket. It was cool in the apartment and he was sweaty; she didn't need him getting pneumonia. Covering him with the blanket, she kissed his forehead and whispered, "Good night, you idiot."

Switching off the light, she left the apartment, locking the door behind her.


	9. A Perceptive Woman

As the alcohol filtered out of his system, the dreams filtered in. He tried a dozen different ways to apologize to her, each one an unmitigated disaster. Always, she ended up saying: _I trusted you. I put you up to the test and you failed miserably, you bastard. You don't respect me. You are just after my body and I can't respect you for that. If I can't respect you and I can't trust you, then I can't be your partner._ And then she was gone...and he as lost in another dream, another failed apology, another departure. And he couldn't break the cycle...What had he done? _I'm sorry...I'm so sorry..._

He shifted his position and groaned. _What the hell..? _Slowly, he became aware of his surroundings. Vaguely, he remembered making his way home from the tavern a few blocks away. He sat up, very slowly, and rested his throbbing head in his hands. Where'd the blanket come from? He passed a hand through sweat-drenched hair and studied the empty bottle resting on its side on the coffee table. An empty tumbler lay on the floor at his feet. It didn't take much for him to deduce what had happened, though he still wasn't sure how the blanket got there. It wasn't something he'd have been likely to get, not in the condition his body told him he'd been in. Ultimately, it hurt too much to think about, so he let it go for now.

Vaguely, he wondered what had happened to drive him to this...then he remembered. And he wished he hadn't. _Damn_. He got up, still unsteady, and went into the bathroom. After a hot shower, he felt marginally better. Pulling on a pair of boxers and sweatpants, he made his way to the kitchen. Food just didn't sound good to him right then, so he settled for a glass of orange juice and returned to the living room. He looked around for the remote, but the phone started ringing, so he switched his search, finally locating it in the chair. "Goren."

_Hi, Bobby. This is Denise._

"Hey."

_We did have a date tonight, didn't we?_

Tonight? He looked at the time. 7:38. _Crap_. He'd slept all damn day. What had he done to himself? "Uh, I'm sorry, Denise...I..." He sighed heavily. He had no excuse. "I'm sorry," he repeated. "I, uh, I can't make it tonight. Sorry I didn't call."

_Is everything all right?_

No, everything was all wrong... "I...I just don't feel well tonight."

_It's okay. I'll just take a rain check._

"Thanks. I'll make it up to you."

A soft laugh. _You always do. Good night, Bobby._

"Good night."

He closed the phone. He was lucky she was so easy-going. He resumed his search for the remote.

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He had dozed off on the couch again and was roused by the doorbell. Getting wearily to his feet, he went to the door and opened it. "Denise?"

She smiled at him. "I'm sorry to just drop by, but I got to thinking about it and I felt bad that you weren't feeling well."

"Don't," he answered, stepping away from the door to let her in. "I did it to myself."

She frowned. "Why? What upset you?"

He was impressed that she knew him well enough to know he was upset. "Don't worry about it. I'll work it out."

He was glad he'd cleaned up as he followed her over to the couch and sat beside her. She studied his face. "Did you eat?" she asked.

"No."

"I can fix you something."

He shook his head. "No, thanks."

"Are you sure?"

He nodded. He still couldn't stomach any food. She continued to study him; he looked tired. Reaching toward him, she cupped her hand over his cheek. "Are you sure you don't want to talk about it?"

That was the _last _thing he wanted to do. "I'm sure," he muttered.

Her fingers slid lightly into his hair and he groaned softly as she leaned toward him and kissed him. He responded to her...until the memory of the previous night popped into his head. He withdrew. He couldn't do this any more. He couldn't take advantage of her like this. She deserved better, and he liked her too much to continue using her this way. It wasn't fair to her, but what was more, it just wasn't right. She looked confused. "What's wrong?"

"I...I just..." He trailed off.

Slowly, he shook his head. He had no idea what to tell her. But Denise was a perceptive woman. "Does this have anything to do with Alex?"

He looked like she'd just hit him and he tried to deny it, but it didn't work very well. "It's about time," she said softly. He stared at her as though she had lost her mind. She gently ran her fingers up his arm and across his shoulder. "I'm really going to miss dating you, but I hope we can stay friends."

He stammered for a moment but nothing coherent would come out. She laid her fingers over his lips. "Don't hurt yourself," she said with a kind smile. "Call her. Work things out with her. She's the one you need, Bobby, and I'm glad to see something kicked you in the ass about her."

"I...but..." He took a steadying breath. "She's my partner, Denise."

"Don't worry. I won't tell anyone."

He frowned. "Tell anyone what?"

She smiled at his confusion. "That she's your partner." Picking up his phone from the table, she pressed it into his hand. "Everything will be fine, dear. I promise." Softly, she kissed him. "Call her. I'll see you Monday. Good night, Bobby."

He watched her leave, then stared at the phone in his hand. _Call her. She's the one you need._ He stared at the phone for a long time. Scrolling through his list of missed calls, he saw two from his mother and eight from his partner. His emotions were in a confused jumble and he still wasn't sure he trusted himself to talk to her. He sighed heavily. Then he placed the phone back on the table and stretched out on the couch, flipping through the channels.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She snuggled into her bed, pulling the comforter up under her chin. Warm and comfortable, she sighed in the darkness and, inevitably, her thoughts turned to the only man in her life who was never far from them. Often, she found herself wondering just what went through that brilliant mind of his. She had spent the day trying to figure out why he had taken off like he did, when she had given him no reason to freak out. He was deeply unsettled, enough to drink himself into a stupor and then refuse to take her calls. She'd never known him to do that before. Of course she'd seen him drunk many times. She'd taken him home enough after something got under his skin and upset his balance. But he had never refused to answer her calls, or to call her back if he missed any calls. She didn't know what to make of him right now. Recalling that rooftop kiss made her body tremble. And that was a very good thing. What could he be thinking?

Reaching toward the table beside her bed, she picked up her phone and dialed his number again. Listened to the ring, she let it go until it went to voicemail. Irritated, she decided against leaving a message. He was upset enough; he didn't need to sense any irritation from her right now. She hung up the phone and rolled onto her side. Tomorrow...either he was going to answer the damn phone or she was going to show up on his doorstep and get this all straightened out. She didn't like this at all; she was worried about him. For some reason, this had terribly upset his equilibrium and he had no idea how to get it back. So she would have to help to restore his balance...somehow.


	10. Unresolved Issue

Another full night of restless, dream-haunted sleep left him feeling miserable, physically and emotionally. What the hell was he killing himself over? Losing another damn partner? He was used to that. But, no, this partner was more to him than that. This partner was his balance, his anchor, his sanity. This was a partner unlike any he'd had before. This partner completed him. And that was all just on the job. In his personal life, she had become...he had no idea how to classify her. His best friend? That seemed like too little. She was more than that. His body seemed to have a clear picture of what it wanted and he had no clue how to turn the damn thing off. That was more than a little irritating to him.

His thoughts went back to the conversation he'd had with Denise last night. She was going to miss dating him...yet she wasn't breaking anything off. She was accepting something. She was accepting Alex, not as competition but, something...different. He didn't even know how to classify that conversation._ I'm glad something kicked you in the ass about her. _Kicked him in the ass? How about steamrolled him into the ground and then backed over him? He felt completely floored, and he wasn't sure why. He'd kissed his partner. His adrenaline kicked up several notches, not because he was still freaking out about kissing her, but because he was remembering the kiss. _Dear God...Now what?_

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It was after lunch and he still wasn't taking her calls. They had a case to solve, and if they went the rest of the weekend without talking, tomorrow was really going to be uncomfortable. She knew him too well. He would be sullen and withdrawn..the very definition of difficult. After Friday night, she simply was not in the mood to be ignored by him. _Idiot_. They were not going to get much done on the Cressmoor case if he was brooding and distracted. Okay, she was going to give him one more chance to answer the phone and then she was going to go over there and talk to him.

She picked up the phone and dialed his number. When it went to voicemail, she slammed it down and said, "That's it, Goren. You're dead meat."

She took a shower and spent longer than usual trying to decide what to wear. She had to be careful. He was in a tenuous place and she didn't want to send him over the friggin' edge. God, he could be so much work sometimes. Sighing, she calmed herself down. Yes, he could be a lot of work, but in the end...well, he was well worth all the effort. There weren't many men around like him. Thank God. Half-genius, half-blithering idiot. Who'da thunk it?

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He got out of the shower and pulled on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Picking up his phone, he closed his eyes. Another missed call. Pressing the button to see who it was, he wasn't surprised she'd tried to call him again. Was he ready to talk to her yet? He was on the fence about that now. He was getting to the point where he wanted to talk to her, but he couldn't get past being afraid to talk to her. His dreams of losing her because of that kiss were still too vivid. But..she hadn't belted him. And she hadn't been the one to step away. No. He was the one who initiated the kiss and then freaked out about it. He really had no idea how she felt...well, wait...that wasn't entirely true. She'd seemed...receptive. More than receptive. She...he sighed again and closed his eyes. He really had to stop doing this to himself.

Leaning over, he picked up the phone and almost dialed. Then he changed his mind. What was he going to say? If he apologized and she didn't want an apology, he was going to be in even more trouble. If he didn't apologize and she wanted one, well, he'd probably get his ass kicked. Was this enough to send her packing? He was beginning to wonder. Maybe not. After all, she did keep trying to call him. He couldn't see her calling him to ream him about kissing her. She wouldn't walk away over the phone. No, she'd take care of all that with Deakins. And he was now having trouble seeing her do that. Now all he was seeing was her face, in the subdued light of the rooftop. _Shit_.

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She stopped outside his apartment door. Was she really doing this for the case? Hell, no. She knew her partner. She was doing this for him. If she waited until tomorrow...who knew what condition he'd be in with this unresolved issue hanging between them. Her mind went over a call she'd received just before she left her place, and she shook her head. _Idiot_, she muttered under her breath. What the hell was she going to do with him? Only one option came to mind. The only viable option she had when it came to him. She was going to love him. She simply had no choice in the matter. Shaking her head again, she knocked on the door.


	11. Pain or Pleasure

Now she was starting to get annoyed. She knocked again. No answer. With a heavy sigh, she pulled out her keys and unlocked the door. Stepping into the apartment, she looked around. "Bobby?"

A quick trip through the place revealed he was not home. Well, he wasn't answering her calls, so how was she supposed to let him know she was coming over? She gave it some careful thought. She didn't expect him to be mad finding her there when he got back. It would probably unsettle him, but he wouldn't be mad. However, if she left and came back later, he was likely not to let her in at all. So, since she was here, she decided to stay. She was not going to let this go another day. Locking the door, she sat down on the couch to wait.

She didn't have too long to wait. She heard the soft jangling and listened to the key sliding into the lock. The tumblers clicked and the door opened. He stopped when he saw her, sitting on his couch, leaning back with her arms crossed. He shifted the paper grocery bag in his arm and studied her for a moment. She was impressed that he didn't drop it, because she knew he was not expecting her to be there. She also knew he was trying to decide if she was angry or not. She did not give him the satisfaction of finding out, carefully keeping her face neutral, except for the hint of annoyance she couldn't quite hide. He looked better than she expected him to, though he still had a hint of the something-the-cat-dragged-in look he surely woke up with yesterday. She knew his tolerance level for alcohol and she knew he'd gone way past that point Friday night. She could still see the residuals of that in his face. She couldn't decide if she felt sympathy or irritation. Sure, he'd finally answered the phone Friday, but she knew he'd have no memory of it. Idiot.

Silently, he closed the door, engaging the deadbolt, which she took as a good sign. He was letting her stay. Without a word, he headed for the kitchen. He simply had no clue what to say, or even how to act with her at the moment. Also keeping the silence, she got up from the couch and followed him, standing in the kitchen doorway and leaning against the wall, arms folded. He slowly unpacked the groceries. A head of lettuce, two tomatoes, an onion, a bell pepper, two packages of meat--it looked like steak from where she was, a small box of rice, a quart of milk and a pint of ice cream. He put the ice cream in the freezer and the milk and one package of meat in the refrigerator. Turning back to the rest of the groceries, he braced his hands on the counter and hung his head for a moment. Finally, he broke the prolonged silence with a deep sigh. "Um...stay for dinner?"

"What are we having?"

"How does pepper steak sound?"

"Is that what you were planning to make, just for yourself?"

"Yes, uh, no...well, yes, I was planning to make it, but no, not just for myself."

"You have a date?"

"No! Uh, I...uh..." He sighed again. "No date. Just you. Wait, that didn't sound right." Another pause. "I think I'll just be quiet now."

She smiled, knowing he wasn't watching her. "Pepper steak sounds good."

No reassurance, no condemnation. He didn't know what to make of her. He couldn't tell if she was upset or not. He could not read his partner right now, but apparently, she was still his partner. She was here. And she seemed comfortable while he, most definitely, was not. _Do something...don't just stand here like an idiot_. He pulled out a cutting board and a knife. Then he got out a frying pan, a pot and a bottle of olive oil. He set the onion and pepper in front of the cutting board and the meat beside it. Another pause. "Salad?"

"What kind of dressing do you have?"

"Whatever you've gotten. Uh, ranch, bleu cheese and Italian, I think."

"Okay, then, salad sounds good. I'll take Italian."

He nodded, cutting up a tomato and the lettuce and putting them into a large bowl, adding a little onion and bell pepper after he sliced them. Finally, he cut the meat into strips. He hazarded a look her way, and he caught his breath. For the first time, he really noticed her. She wore a pair of tan pants that rode low on her hips and a sleeveless black shirt that hugged her body the way he wanted to..._stupid_! He really had to get his damn mind out of the gutter his body kept dragging it into. But...she looked...he turned away, trying hard not to have trouble breathing. He closed his eyes, but that just made things worse, so he opened them. She really was killing him.

She watched him glance her way, saw his body tense, and she had no idea what that was all about. He was suddenly very unsettled. Maybe he just realized he'd ignored at least thirty friggin' calls from her. Maybe he was ashamed for leaving her on the roof...well, no, he would probably feel more shame for kissing her than for taking off like he did. Well, she had the rest of the afternoon and all night to troubleshoot their relationship. They'd be all right...as soon as he let them be all right.

He put the rice on to cook and, without looking at her, asked, "Something to drink?"

"Like what?"

"I have coke or beer. And you still have a wine cooler or two, and that bottle of rum."

"Are you planning to get me drunk?"

"What? No! I..." he trailed off and let out his breath in a frustrated huff.

She almost smiled. It had to be illegal to have this much fun with him. She wondered if she wasn't enjoying his discomfort a little too much, but then decided, no, she wasn't. He took off on her, leaving her on the damn roof and then he refused to answer her calls for two days. He deserved every ounce of discomfort she could heap on him. But she did cut him a small break. "I'll take a coke," she said with a smile he didn't see.

He went to the refrigerator and handed her a can. Then he got a glass from the cabinet, put in a few ice cubes and handed her that. When he started to drop things, she took pity on him. "I'll just watch some TV until you're done," she said, glad he hadn't drawn blood when he was cutting and chopping. His anxiety level was on the rise. Good. And she felt no guilt for enjoying his discomfort.

She left the doorway and he leaned against the counter, letting his breath out slowly. He didn't have to guess why she was here. He really should have answered the phone. Talking to her on the phone would have been way less unsettling than having her there, looking like that...He closed his eyes and scrubbed his face with both hands. What the hell was he supposed to do? He could barely think straight right now, with her around. But he was glad she was there...very glad. It gave him hope and led him to think that just maybe he hadn't royally screwed things up with her. The partnership, at least, was intact. The friendship seemed to be as well. He felt himself begin to settle.

Turning back to the stove, he poured a little oil in the pan and turned the burner on. Okay, she was here. Now what? He knew she wanted to talk, knew they needed to talk. But he had no idea what to say...and he got the feeling she was not going to make this easy for him. Not that he blamed her. Actually, he'd expected her to be angry with him and the fact that she wasn't really confused him. She confused him a lot lately. But letting him kiss her like that, and not getting angry about it...He really didn't know what to make of that. If he'd stay with her that night, though...He shuddered involuntarily and forced his thoughts away from the possibilities. Turning back to the stove, he threw the meat into the pan of hot oil.

She wasn't paying much attention to what was on the television. Her thoughts were in the kitchen, with him. Her mind was recreating their dance from Friday night...and he hadn't even been trying to be sexy. But that was beside the point because he had been...very much so. She sighed heavily. Without trying he had set her world on its end, and she, without knowing it, had upset his equilibrium, sending him into a panic. She didn't quite get why he panicked, but she understood him well enough that she hadn't been entirely surprised. It drove her nuts that he wouldn't answer her calls. She couldn't hazard a guess as to what was going through that mind of his, but she was going to find out. Tonight.

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He came into the living room and handed her a plate, a shy grin on his face. "You need another coke?"

"Yes, please."

She took the plate and risked meeting his eyes. He looked away quickly. This was going to be harder than it should be. When he returned with her coke, his eyes roamed around the room, from the couch to the easy chair, as he debated where to sit. She slid over on the couch, not giving him a choice. Almost reluctantly, he sat beside her.

She watched him sit and couldn't help but noticed how tense he was. She was certain if she reached out to touch him, he'd end up on the other side of the room. She was going to have to approach this carefully unless she wanted him to have a damn heart attack. Several scenarios ran through her mind, and she decided acting nonchalant was her best bet. Taking a bite of salad, she said casually, "So, how was your date last night?"

He choked. Seeing that he'd failed to get himself a drink, she pressed her coke into his hand. He took two big swallows and he could breathe again. He coughed to clear his throat and looked at her. "M-my date? I-I cancelled it."

"Really?"

He studied her more closely than he had since she arrived. Now he was getting suspicious. What was she up to? How did she know he had a date last night? And why bring it up? "Um, I..." he trailed off again, not sure what to say.

"It's nice to see you speechless every once in a while."

He sighed. "Nothing happened," he finally said. His voice was quiet, his tone guilty. "I, um, I can't take advantage of her any more."

That surprised her. "What are you talking about? Denise never said anything about you taking advangtage of her."

He wondered exactly what Denise had said about him, but decided he was better off not knowing. And he certainly didn't want to get into the details of how he had taken advantage of her. Instead, he raised an eyebrow at her. "Just how long have you been talking to Denise?"

"In general? For a long time. About you? Since just after you began seeing her."

He ran a hand over his face, feeling a little ambushed. "And you talked to her...since last night?"

She nodded. "This afternoon. She called me to ask how you were. She was under the mistaken impression that you called me, Goren."

He groaned. "What did she tell you?"

"Nothing I didn't already know."

He looked surprised, and more than a little wary. "Like what?"

"Well, she's always said you are sweet and gentle, considerate...I knew all that a long time ago. And she said you were very hungover last night."

He sighed, embarrassed. "Y-you knew that?"

"Yes, Bobby. I came by on Friday night after I talked to you, to make sure you were all right. You'd already passed out."

Well, that explained the presence of the blanket. "I, uh, I talked to you Friday night?"

"I figured you didn't remember."

"Y-you came by to check on me? After what I did?"

"What did you do, Bobby?"

She fully expected him to say he'd kissed her, but, once again, he surprised her. "Leaving you like that. Up on the roof. That was...wrong. But...you have to understand, Eames...if I hadn't gone...I-I was afraid of what I might do."

"Did you think you were going to hurt me?"

"N-not intentionally."

"Could you ever force yourself to do anything to me I was unwilling to let you do? Ever?"

He had set his plate on the coffee table and now he looked at his hands. "No. Never."

"So what were you so afraid of?"

He was quiet. He had no idea how to put this, and he was very unhappy at being knocked so far outside his comfort zone he couldn't find his way back. She took a risk and slid a little closer to him. He glanced at her, then returned his eyes to his hands. "I was afraid of myself," he said, his voice so soft she almost couldn't hear him.

She leaned forward to look at his face and he shifted his eyes toward her. "Yourself?" she said quietly, genuinely puzzled.

He nodded. "Not what I might do to you, but what I was feeling inside. Eames, the last thing I ever want to do is screw up what we have."

"First, let's get on the same page. What do you think we have? What part of our relationship could you possibly screw up by what you did?"

He stared at her. "What could I screw up? Our entire relationship, our partnership…everything."

"Because you're in love with me?"

He was glad he was no longer eating because he would have choked again. He just stared at her, unhappy about being caught so offguard. "In l-love?"

"Deny it."

He heard the challenge and he couldn't rise to meet it. He couldn't deny it, not to her. He rested his head in his hands and rubbed his temples. "As much as I didn't intend to kiss you," he said quietly. "I was even less prepared for my reaction to it."

"You mean your freakout?"

"No. Before that."

She was impressed that he was still there, sitting beside her on the couch. She expected him to get up and start pacing any time now. So she took another chance and further closed the distance between them, not quite coming into contact with him but situated well within his personal space. "Deny it," she challenged again, her voice a whisper.

She was close enough to sense the tremor that ran through his body. _Deny it_. Slowly he shook his head. "I-I can't," he answered, his voice equally quiet.

"Do you think for one moment that I let you kiss me, that I kissed you back...without feeling the same way?"

He turned his head to look at her. She could tell by the look on his face that it had never occurred to him that she could actually love him the way he loved her. And she had no idea why not. He started to say something, but it made no sense to his mind or her ears. So he started over again. "I...you...you do?" That wasn't what he'd intended to say, but it was all he could get out so it would have to do.

"How can you be so brilliant and so damn clueless all at the same time?"

He opened his mouth to reply, then changed his mind. He had no answer to that. She would never understand how hard it was for him to accept the fact that she could love him. After all, it had taken decades before he could accept the fact that his own mother loved him. For someone like Alex, a woman he'd come to love more than anyone else, a woman he respected and trusted, a woman he had truly fallen in love with...to love him in return...it was close to being beyond his comprehension.

She finished closing the distance between them. Her knee, her leg, her hip slid into contact with him. He closed his eyes, fighting an irrational urge to retreat. Her fingers touched his hand, and he turned it over, letting her caress his palm and lay her hand across it. His other hand slid behind her and he finally looked at her. She could feel the tension in his body, like a spring, tightened to the point of recoil. She moved her face closer to his, but stopped well short of her destination. She wanted him to finish the move, close the distance, seal the deal.

When she spoke, her breath whispered across his face. "Yes, I do. I feel the same way, you idiot." When he didn't move, she huffed in frustration. "There are two directions you can move in, Bobby. If you chose the wrong one, I swear I'll smack you."

Still he hesitated, studying her. "Wrong..." he mused softly. "Wrong for who?"

"Well, I suppose that depends on whether you prefer pain or pleasure."

Finally, he laughed softly. And he made his choice.

* * *

**A/N: Okay, readers...I want your opinions. Details of his decision or back to work?**


	12. Fire

**A/N: Details won, hands down, so here ya go...and the next chapter is back to work, business not-quite-as-usual. Please Forgive Me is by Bryan Adams.**

* * *

He got up from the couch, and she settled back in frustration. He really was making this difficult. But he didn't retreat like she expected him to. He started moving furniture, which really confused her. "Bobby..." 

He raised a hand, indicating she should wait a minute. Moving the coffee table and easy chair off to the far side of the room, he crossed over to the stereo and slipped a CD into the player, setting it to play a certain song. Then he returned to the couch, took her hand and pulled her into his arms. This time, he let her body press into his, placing his palm in the center of her back and holding her hand, cradled in his, close to his cheek.

_It still feels like our first night together  
Feels like the first kiss and it's gettin' better baby  
No one can better this  
I'm still holdin' on and you're still the one  
The first time our eyes met - it's the same feelin' I get  
Only feels much stronger - I wanna love ya longer  
You still turn the fire on..._

_So if you're feelin' lonely ... don't  
You're the only one I'd ever want  
I only wanna make it good  
So if I love ya a little more than I should..._

_Please forgive me - I know not what I do  
Please forgive me - I can't stop lovin' you  
don't deny me - this pain I'm going through  
Please forgive me - if I need ya like I do  
Please believe me - every word I say is true  
Please forgive me - I can't stop lovin' you_

_Still feels like our best times are together  
Feels like the first touch  
We're still gettin' closer baby  
Can't get close enough  
I'm still holdin' on - you're still number one  
I remember the smell of your skin  
I remember everything  
I remember all your moves - I remember you  
I remember the nights - ya know I still do_

_So if you're feeling lonely... don't  
You're the only one I'd ever want  
I only wanna make it good  
So if I love ya a little more than I should_

_Please forgive me - I know not what I do  
Please forgive me - I can't stop lovin' you  
Don't deny me - this pain I'm going through  
Please forgive me - if I need ya like I do  
Please believe me - every word I say is true  
Please forgive me - I can't stop lovin' you_

_One thing I'm sure of - is the way we make love  
And the one thing I depend on  
Is for us to stay strong  
With every word and every breath I'm prayin'  
That's why I'm sayin'..._

_Please forgive me - I know not what I do  
Please forgive me - I can't stop lovin' you  
Don't deny me - this pain I'm going through  
Please forgive me - if I need ya like I do  
Never leave me - I don't know what I'd do  
Please forgive me - I can't stop lovin' you_

She recognized the song as well as its significance, coming from him. Forgive him for loving her...that was _so_ him. She leaned her head forward to rest on his chest and gently slid her hips across his body, left to right and then back; he didn't withdraw. Her free hand gently untucked his shirt from his jeans, allowing her fingers to slide along bare skin, and he caught his breath, but still he didn't withdraw. He stepped into her, increasing the pressure of her body against his, and he lowered his head toward hers, pressing his cheek against her head. "Was this the right move?" he whispered.

"Have I smacked you yet?" she returned, smiling. "Keep going."

He laughed softly and tightened his arm around her. She felt the gentle kiss he pressed into her head. Then his lips slid down to place another kiss on her temple...in front of her ear...on her cheek...and she turned her head to meet his next kiss with her mouth. She felt a groan rumble in his chest as a tremor shook his body. Sliding her fingers along his side, she brought her hands around and began to slide his t-shirt up over his stomach. Breaking the kiss long enough to slide his shirt up over his head, they met again and his kiss became more urgent. His fingers skimmed along her waist and, barely breaking the kiss a second time, he slipped her shirt over her head and tossed it in the general direction of the couch.

She made a mental note to tease him about the expertise with which he undid her bra, and it joined her shirt on the floor. Pressing against her, he forced her to step backwards and, before she realized it, they were crossing the threshold into the bedroom. Her fingers had already undone his belt and the button on his jeans as his tongue slid past her lips, toying with hers, and her own pants slid over her hips.

He knew exactly how far it was from the door to the bed without even thinking about it, and he lowered her back at the right moment. She didn't flinch, didn't reach out behind her; she trusted him and was rewarded by soft, cool mattress beneath her bare back and butt. He marvelled at the fire her fingers traced over his skin, as if the ball of lava in the center of his gut needed any more heat. His own fingers formed random patterns over her flesh and some vague thought at the back of his mind wondered if his touch stirred the same fire within her.

If he'd asked, she would have smacked him for talking and then answered: _oh, yes..._ Her skin was on fire and her gut was burning as she arched toward him, pressing her abdomen into his and pulling his shoulders closer to her chest. She gasped when hard nipples met hot flesh and she shifted again, looking for contact that could relieve the pressure that continued building deep inside her. What was taking him so long?

If she kept moving like that, he'd never make it. He slid his mouth down to her neck, listening to her ragged breathing as it breezed across his ear, knowing his own breathing was just as rough. His heart hammered in his chest and his body felt engulfed in flame as he sought her center. Finding it, he slid inside and nearly exploded, stopping with his face buried in the curve where her neck met her shoulder, stilling her movements by pressing his hips hard against hers, pinning her to the bed. He growled into her skin, softly nipping her, then soothing the nip with his tongue. The sound she made did not help him one bit. But he felt himself settle, felt the fire recede enough for him to continue with a fair chance of finishing the way he wanted to...with her. Watching her face, he eased his hips back and released hers, gently shifting and thrusting, searching for just the right angle. He knew when he found it, and he smiled.

She was amazed at the transformation in him. No longer uncertain and searching for equilibrium, he was totally confident as he sought to master her body, and was he ever succeeding! She started getting frustrated when he pinned her hips to the bed, struggling to continue moving because she had to, until he nipped her and teased her skin with the warmth of his tongue. She uttered a sound that was a hybrid of gasp and groan and concentrated on the path of his tongue along her neck and shoulder. She felt something akin to an electric current course from his mouth, down her spine into the center of her body, where it supercharged the growing ball of fire in the middle of her abdomen. She was relieved when he relaxed enough to begin moving again, releasing her hips and shifting his body. She wasn't sure what he was doing, but she couldn't complain about how it felt...and then he found what he'd been looking for and she gasped again, arching herself toward him and digging her nails into his back. She saw his smile and she slid a hand up to his head, pulling him down into a deep kiss.

When her lips claimed his, his head went into a tailspin and his body hesitated. Never had any woman before knocked him so far off balance. Was it because he'd lusted after her for so long, imagining this very scenario on a damn-near nightly basis? Or was it simply because he truly did love her, when before what he had assumed was love had merely been his body seeking release? Did it matter? Her hips slammed into him and she gently bit his tongue. Apparently, stopping again was not something she had in mind. He laughed softly into her mouth, bracing himself on one arm as he sought a breast with his free hand. He let his hips move once more, but slowly, and she bit him again. He smiled.

Okay, if this guy didn't get with the program she was seriously going to have to knock the crap out of him. She groaned against his mouth and shoved her hips into him again. He grunted softly in reply and slowly stepped up the pace. That was better. Her eyes slid closed and she concentrated on the tension building in her body. She could feel the tension mount in him as well. He buried his face in her neck again and she nipped his ear. Another groan, and his motions became more urgent. "More," she groaned into his ear. She didn't have to make a second request.

So, she wasn't up for slow...he got that much from the urgency in her thrusts. He'd calmed enough to accomodate her...until he began to move faster and she bit his ear. That was it for him...he couldn't have slowed back down if he wanted to. And when her voice, husky and breathless, moaned into his ear, it was his undoing. He ignored the rhythm of their bodies, taking for advantage that they were in sync. Her breathless moans just drove him harder and faster toward his goal, and his body accomodated hers by taking it along for the trip. They arrived at their destination within moments of each other, tension spilling over hard and fast, and he collapsed onto the bed beside her, struggling to catch his breath. She turned toward him, burying her face in his chest and holding him tight, also out of breath.

Gradually, his heart rate slowed to normal, his blood pressure slid back from its apex and easy breathing returned. She recovered before he did. Her head nestled into his shoulder and her fingers caressed his chest, helping him calm. He softly kissed her forehead, exhausted. Nestling into her body, he could no longer stay awake and succumbed to his body's desire for sleep.

She felt him relax, knew when he drifted off, and she smiled. She was comfortable in his arms and headed for the same place herself. She looked at his face, peaceful for once as he slept. And she wondered about him. Did he really have to _think _about everything? She lightly stroked his temple and he sighed softly in his sleep. The day he stopped thinking would be his last day in this life, she realized. "So think," she whispered, kissing him softly. He mumbled something to her in his sleep and she smiled again. She was content with her ability to shut down his mind from time to time, catch him off guard, knock him off balance. He had to redefine his comfort zone with her now, but that was okay, too. Tomorrow might prove to be an uncomfortable day--doubly so if Major Cressmoor made an appearance, which he was bound to. But they'd work it out. She kissed him again and settled against his body with a soft sigh...and she slept.


	13. Wanderings

Deep in the night, awareness returned as he woke from a sound sleep. His dreams were getting more and more vivid. He actually felt...different, in a vague, indefinable way. It wasn't a new dream...but _something _was different. He couldn't quite explain it. He rolled onto his back, jerking around in surprise when he rolled into another body in the bed. She was curled on her side, sleeping soundly. Turning onto his side, he propped himself up on an elbow and watched her sleep. _Well, damn! It hadn't been a dream after all_. Reaching out, he gently brushed her hair back from her face. Her only response was a soft sigh, which ignited a stronger response in him._ No...let her sleep...you don't want to friggin' scare her off..._

He softly kissed her forehead and she shifted closer to him. Obligingly, he let her nestle against him and he closed his arms around her, placing another loving kiss against her temple. He felt himself settle and relax, and sleep came easy for a change.

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The rising sun was just beginning to chase away the shadows in the bedroom. She turned in his arms, half expecting him to be awake, watching her sleep. Normally the thought of anyone just watching her sleep would be very unsettling to her, but in this instance, because it was him, it wasn't. Not at all. In fact, it was something she expected from him and she was almost disappointed to find him still sleeping. Resting on his side facing her, his right arm was draped over her while the other was tucked beneath his pillow. Moving closer, she gently kissed his chest, allowing her lips to linger and feel the slow beat of his heart beneath them. One hand came to rest against his abdomen while the fingers of the other strayed across his side. He stirred but didn't yet awaken. Shifting her position in the bed, she reached up to kiss the hollow at the base of his throat, her fingers moving to stroke warm skin. A soft groan and he moved again. Slowly, his eyes slid open halfway and he looked at her. His lips moved to form a sleepy half-smile. "Good morning," he whispered.

Never before had she thought that sleepy could be so sexy. She kissed him and whispered back, "Good morning."

Then she moved her body closer, continued to trail her fingers lightly across his skin and kissed him again.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

At 9:00 on the dot, Hugo Cressmoor stepped from the elevator onto the 11th floor of 1PP. He approached Goren and Eames at a brisk walk. "You've had all weekend, detectives," he said without preamble. "What have you found out?"

If he was honest, Goren would admit he found it was a helluva long way down to the bottom of the whiskey barrel and a hard, painful climb back out. In spite of the way his partner had woken him this morning, a memory he needed to suppress if he was to do any thinking at all, the vague remnant of a headache beat a slow tattoo behind his eyes. Eames watched him shift uncomfortably for a moment before she came to his aid. "Quit messing with the major, Goren," she said lightly, meeting his eyes briefly before turning her gaze to the major. "Excuse my partner, major. He's in an odd mood today. We reviewed all the interviews we conducted last week and selected the ones most likely to be able to help us. We were just about to start calling them to come back in and look at the sketch our artist did with Kelly. We would like to show it to Jeff as well to see if he knows the man."

Cressmoor nodded. "I can bring Jeff in this evening, say 6:30."

"That would be fine."

Cressmoor turned his attention back to Goren. "My wife and I had a discussion about you." Goren groaned to himself, but gave no outward sign of a reaction to the major. "Kelly enjoyed your visit and my wife was very impressed with you. She said you made Kelly laugh, and that was something that had been missing from the time she woke up. I am grateful to you for giving that back to us. I may have been a bit...heavy-handed last week. For that I do apologize. I am angry and frustrated, and I just want you to find this son-of-a-bitch. Surely you can understand that."

"I do understand, and we have every intention of finding him. How is Kelly doing?"

"Much better. She is being transferred to the regular pediatric floor this afternoon. She did want me to ask you to come by and visit her again."

Goren's soft smile was genuine. "We would like that."

Cressmoor nodded. "Have you had any luck finding Gloria?"

"No, sir."

"If I hear from her, I will let you know. Keep me informed."

He turned and headed out of the squad room. Eames snorted in annoyance. "I don't get that. Last week he's out for your blood and now he's all sugar and spice? Is he bipolar?"

Goren laughed quietly and looked at her across the desks. "When did we go through the interviews?"

"_We _didn't. I did, on Saturday when you were busy not answering your phone."

He felt a pang of guilt at that, not even considering the late hours he'd put in alone most of the last week. "I-I'm sorry about that, Eames."

She smiled at him. "You did do most of the paperwork last week. Call us even."

"Still," he said quietly, leaning forward. "I, uh, I should have answered my phone."

"I agree. Don't let it happen again." She handed him a stack of files. "These are the witnesses we need to recall. Have fun."

He sighed softly, but took the files with no argument. After flipping open the first file, he glanced up at her. She smiled at him. It took an effort for him to look away as he picked up the phone.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The files were once again spread out over the table in one of the conference rooms. They had two witnesses scheduled after lunch and then they planned to head over to the hospital to see Kelly. Goren was trying to review the initial interviews with the eleven witnesses they were recalling but he wasn't having much luck, and he was getting increasingly frustrated. Normally he had no trouble concentrating but today seemed to be an exception. Every time his partner came into the room, his brain went on hiatus. Between last night and early this morning, there was plenty for it to dwell on, and he found it annoying that his mind had now chosen to join his body in rebelling against the small part of him that was struggling to be reasonable. There was work to be done, even if everything was stalled at the moment. He really needed to review these interviews. _Work now, play later._ But it was the _play _part of it his mind wanted to focus on and his body was going right along with it, compounding the issue. He needed to get a grip, to re-establish his equilibrium. Just when he would begin to get a handle on it, though, Eames would come into the room, offsetting his balance all over again just by being there.

To make matters worse, she had removed her jacket. She wore a collared shirt, open in the front, her bare, nicely-muscled arms fully exposed. Just barely visible where the curve of her neck disappeared beneath the fabric were a couple of small bruises, and he smiled at the memory of putting them there. She braced her hands on the table and studied the schedule of interviews on the paper in front of her, a small frown creasing her brow in concentration. Her frown deepened and she picked up the paper, moving over a few steps to stand directly across the table from him. Leaning forward, she pointed to the paper and started to speak. His eyes unconsciously strayed past her neckline and his brain disengaged until she cuffed the side of his head. "Pay attention," she snapped, but there was a smile in her eyes.

Pay attention? Oh, he was paying attention, all right. His attention just wasn't directed where she wanted it. Struggling, he drew his gaze to her face, fighting the powerful temptation to let it wander. There was a glint of amusement in her eye as she tapped the paper on the table in front of her and said, "Look, you've got two interviews for Tuesday at three."

He looked at the paper, forcing his mind to translate the letters into words. The two names floated around in his mind until they clicked. His eyes cleared. "Oh, I, uh, this one should be Thursday. Sorry about that."

She changed the second 'Tuesday' to 'Thursday' and turned her eyes back to him. He was watching her intently. She smiled and lightly tapped his chin with her finger, letting it trail lightly along his jawline for a brief moment before her hand dropped away and she turned from the table. Leaving the room, she returned to her desk and sat down, lifting her coffee cup and holding it in both hands. She couldn't help but notice her partner's distractibility. Normally, she would find it annoying except for the fact that she wasn't doing much better. She felt uncomfortably too much like a teenager with a new boyfriend. He had removed his jacket and tie, unbuttoned the first three buttons of his shirt, and rolled his sleeves halfway up his forearms. She couldn't make up her mind whether she wanted to watch the well-defined muscles in his arms or the seductive curve of his neck and the soft hair that rested at the open collar of his shirt. Taking frequent, unscheduled mental forays back to his bedroom, she could not keep her body from reacting to the memory of what had transpired there. Thank God she wasn't a guy. If her own wanderings were any indication of his state, she did not blame him one bit for hiding out in the conference room.

In spite of the great effort she had put into keeping her mind on track, it had taken her far too long to notice the scheduling error on the paper in front of her. Turning her attention to him as she pointed out the mistake, she was surprised to find him looking down the front of her shirt. _Oh, Bobby..._she thought sympathetically. But when she got no reaction after calling his name, she couldn't help gently smacking the side of his head. It seemed to serve the purpose of jumpstarting his brain, at least long enough for him to answer her. She hoped no one else would notice what was going on, but everyone seemed wrapped up in their own work, much to her relief.

They really needed to get their acts together. If only she could keep her mind away from the memories of what he did to her body..._oh_...there it went again. _Concentrate_...easier said than done. Sighing, she took a drink from her coffee cup, frowning at the cold fluid that flowed past her lips. When did it have time to get cold? Glancing up at the time, she sighed. 12:42. Time to get ready to re-interview Mrs. Kowalski.


	14. Juggling Things

After turning their second witness over to the uniformed officer who was waiting to escort him out of the building, Eames returned to the conference room. Goren was once more trying to immerse himself in the files he had laid out all over the table. He started when she sat beside him and she raised her eyebrows at him. "Jumpy much?"

"Just, uh...distracted."

_No kidding,_ she mused. But she didn't say anything, afraid he would point out her own distraction, if he'd even noticed. But, no, he noticed everything. She leaned back in her chair and stretched, glancing toward him, surprised to meet his eyes. Her insides melted. She vaguely wondered what he would say if he knew that he could reduce her to silly putty with no effort at all. She looked away, picking up the sketch of their suspect while she struggled to refocus and pull herself back together. _Come on, Eames...Get with the program._

He took a slow, deep breath. Why had he not expected her to sit back down in her seat? _Idiot_. He reminded himself how successful he had been at staying focused during the two interviews. There was hope for him yet. He hadn't totally reverted back into a teenager. He tried to read the words on the page in front of him, but they kept blending together as his mind took a stroll back into the recesses of recent memory. _Dammit...get back to the task at hand._ Another deep breath. _Okay, Goren...focus..._

Then she made a small noise and stretched. He looked toward her before he knew what he was doing and met her eyes. That was it. She looked away and his eyes caught the slender curve of her neck. _Damn_. Exactly how the hell was he supposed to ask her to bundle up like an Eskimo so he could keep his damn mind from wandering? And when his mind wandered, he was in grave danger of embarrassment when his body reacted to those wanderings. _Get a grip, Goren!_

They decided to head over to see Kelly before their 6:30 appointment with her father and brother. They both needed a break from the confines of the squad room. Maybe a change of scenery would help diffuse some of the tension they felt. Not that this particular kind of tension was bad. It was just damn distracting!

She started the Explorer and twisted around to back out of the parking spot. Quietly, he watched her, dark eyes guarded. He knew only too well where they were, who might be around. When she stopped and shifted the transmission into drive, she met his eyes, penetrating past that guarded look with an ease she had never felt before. She swallowed, but said nothing as she accelerated toward the exit. She expected him to say something, but he didn't, turning to look out the window as she left the parking garage. That look...she took a deep, silent breath.

With difficulty, he turned away from her. If he hadn't, well...he knew that Deakins would frown on them getting into an accident for any reason, but how would they explain... He shifted in the seat, then decided that wasn't the right thing to do, attracting her attention back to him. It wasn't like she was going to _do_ anything, but still... He jerked when her hand settled on his thigh and he looked at her. She was trying not to smile. "Want me to pull over?"

"Yes...I mean, no! Shit..."

Now she did laugh, and he relaxed. "We need to talk," she said softly.

"And exactly what good would that do?" Talking was actually the last thing he had in mind, but he would do whatever it was she wanted. If that was talking, well, then they would talk.

"So what do we do?" He looked sideways at her and she smacked his shoulder. "Besides that, idiot. I don't know if you noticed or not, but it's been a really long day."

Oh, he'd noticed. He leaned back against the seat and gently took her hand in his, interlacing his fingers with hers. He wasn't sure exactly how long he had been dreaming about loving her. It had become a distraction he'd been able to master, for the most part. When it became reality, though, everything changed. His ability to concentrate disintegrated into memories and a deep longing he could not fully suppress. He had to have faith that all this would become manageable as the novelty wore off, and the two interviews today helped boost his confidence that it would.

When she put on the signal to turn into the medical center parking garage, he brought her hand up to his lips and lightly kissed it before he released it. A slight flush colored her cheeks and he smiled as he turned back to the window. She made the turn into the garage.

Turning off the engine, she pulled the keys out of the ignition and reached for the door handle, stopping when his hand came to rest on her arm. Slowly, he moved his hand up her arm and fingered her collar. Then his fingers slipped past the fabric to trace her collarbone, sliding along the curve of her neck, where he touched her small bruises with a fingertip. By now, her eyes were closed and she had no will to stop the course of his hand. Jelly...he turned her to jelly, dammit...no one had ever managed to do this to her before...how did he?

As his left hand slipped under her hair and behind her neck, his right hand tucked under the hem of her shirt to caress the soft skin beneath it. Pulling her head toward him, he kissed her softly and trembled from the effort it took to hold himself back.

Her hand traveled along his arm, past his shoulder, and into his hair as she increased the pressure of her mouth on his, gently teasing his lips with the tip of her tongue. With a soft groan, he pulled back, while he still could. She let him go, resting her head against the window beside her as she struggled with herself.

"Okay," he said at last, his voice tight. "That didn't help matters at all. Did it?"

She shook her head. "No, it didn't."

"I...I'm sorry."

A soft smile. "Don't be. I'm not."

"You're not?"

"No. But I guess we ought to get on into the hospital..."

He nodded. "What else can we do?"

"Find a broom closet somewhere?"

He laughed, finally relaxing as the tension in his body ebbed. He looked at her. "Eames," he said softly, his voice warm and sincere. "I love you."

His confession should not have surprised her. On some level, she had known this for a long time. But still, for some reason, she was surprised to hear him say it. She smiled and touched his cheek. "I love you, too, Goren." Fingers gently trailed across his lips. "Come on. Let's go say hello to Kelly."

She got out of the Explorer and, after a moment, he followed her.

Kelly looked up from the page she was coloring and her face lit up into a bright grin. Eames was touched by the corresponding grin on her partner's face. She gently touched his arm and moved around to talk to Patrice while Bobby played with the little girl.

As Eames discussed the importance of finding Gloria with Patrice, Goren pulled a small, colorful hacky-sack from his pocket. After a few sleight-of-hand tricks that made Kelly giggle, he handed her the little ball and watched her play with it. He tipped his head to the side and looked at her. "That ball seems kind of lonely, don't you think?"

She nodded. "Yes."

Reaching carefully toward her, he gently tickled the side of her neck and produced another woven ball. "Look at that."

She clapped her hands. "Again," she giggled.

He looked thoughtful. "You know, if we had three of them, I could show you something. Do you think you have one in your other ear?"

She put her hand over her ear. "I don't think so."

"Let me see."

He moved his hand past her ear and lightly touched the side of her head, careful to avoid the bruise that encircled her ear and had been the major contributing injury to her unconsciousness after the attack. She squealed happily when he produced a third ball. She placed the first one into his hand and said, "Show me, please."

With a dexterity that would astonish anyone he had treated to his bumbling detective routine, he popped the balls into the air, carefully juggling them for the astonished child. She clapped her hands and bounced on the bed. He spent the better part of the next hour teaching her how to juggle first two, then all three of the balls, until his partner leaned against his back and spoke into his ear. "We have to go. We have a 6:30 appointment."

He nodded, careful to suppress any reaction to her proximity, particularly the whisper of her breath past his ear. He was amazed he didn't drop the balls. He smiled at Kelly. "I had fun, Kelly, but we have to go now."

"Aww, you have to?"

"I'm afraid so." He touched her cheek. "You be good for Mommy and Daddy and keep practicing what I taught you."

Before he could stand up, she scrambled forward and hugged him. He wrapped an arm around her and Eames smiled, knowing exactly how good it felt to be in those arms. When his eyes shifted toward Patrice, she gave him a warm smile and mouthed, 'Thank you.'

He winked at her and inclined his head. Then he gave Kelly a kiss on the cheek, tucked her back in and they left her trying to juggle the little hacky-sacks.

As they walked toward the car, Eames looked up at him. He met her gaze. "What?"

"You need a child of your own."

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. "I do?"

She nodded and looked away, continuing toward the Explorer. He waited for her to say something else, but she didn't. So he kept quiet until he got into the car with her. "Um, that's all well and good, Eames, but I can't have a baby all by myself."

"The way I did?"

He opened his mouth to reply, then shut it. He had to say the right thing here. The grief of giving up the baby she had carried, even to her sister, was still fresh, still painful. "No, Alex," he said softly. "What you did for your sister was a loving and generous thing and not many people could do that. I couldn't."

"If that circumstance ever presented itself to you, you'd make the papers."

He frowned for a moment before he got what she was joking about. She always tried to cope with her pain by joking about it. "No, I mean I couldn't give up a baby like that. I...it had to be heartbreaking."

The small smile faded. "You know it was, Bobby."

He nodded. "Yeah, I do." He hesitated again. Okay, now that he'd backed himself into a corner he didn't want to be in, what did he do? If he just shut up and let it go, as was his inclination, she would dwell on that pain for the rest of the night. He didn't want that, so as uncomfortable as he was with the conversation, he plowed on ahead. "It was a good thing for you to do, Alex. An-and I hope you can have what you want soon."

She looked at him sideways. "And what do I want?"

He shifted uncomfortably. Now the ground in his corner was crumbling beneath him. There was no getting out of it. He wasn't sure if he should look at her or not, but he decided to take the chance and meet her eyes. It was the right thing to do. There was no anger in them, just curiosity laced with a grief he would never understand. "You want a baby," he said softly. "One you'll never have to give away." He pushed her hair back behind her ear. "And a man who will love you both."

She closed her eyes. She really hated the way he could read her sometimes. Of all the men in the world, she had to fall in love with a profiler. When his lips lightly touched hers, she gave herself into the kiss, and she was able to let the pain go. When his tongue gently slipped past her lips, she slid her hand into his shirt and he softly groaned. A few more moments and he pulled back, caressing her cheek. She opened her eyes and looked at him. His eyes burned bright and all she wanted in that moment was to love him. He rested his hand against the side of her head. "We...we, uh, better go...while we can. I, um, I don't think there are any broom closets nearby. An-and there'll be hell to pay if we keep the major waiting."

Leaning forward, she kissed him again. "Thank you, Bobby."

"F-for getting you all worked up?"

She laughed, and there was a genuine smile in her eyes. "No. For making it better."

"Making what better?"

She was amazed at how easily she could confuse him with the distraction of a simple kiss. "For making me feel better about giving him up. And for giving me hope that there can be another without that pain to go with his birth."

She started the car and backed out of the space. He didn't say anything more on the ride back to 1PP; he didn't have to. She felt better, and even though he wasn't sure exactly how he'd done it, whatever he said, he was glad he said it. As far as her comment about having a child of his own, the comment that led to this entire conversation, he would be thrilled to have a child with the right woman, and his gut told him that Eames was the right woman. But he said nothing more about it as his insecurities once again stirred to the surface. At least his mind was no longer traipsing down a path that was likely to get him in trouble...

They had barely gotten to their desks when Cressmoor and Jeff stepped off the elevator, fifteen minutes early. Eames was the first to notice their approach. "They're here," she said softly across the desks.

Goren turned to face them. Cressmoor stopped well short of the desks. "Here we are. What are your questions?"

The major never wasted time getting to the point. Goren motioned for them to follow him. "We'll be more comfortable in an interview room."

"Don't you mean an interrogation room?" Jeff asked.

Goren stopped and looked at him curiously. "No. I mean an interview room. But if you'd like to sit in an interrogation room, we can certainly accommodate you."

"What's the difference?"

"You can look out the windows into the squad room from one and we can watch every move you make and hear every sound you utter in the other. Your choice."

The teenager looked at his father before he answered, "I think we'll take the windows."

Goren looked at his partner and continued across the squad room to interview room two.

Jeff and his father sat at the table and looked around the room. It wasn't as stark as they imagined it to be. The two detectives sat opposite them. Goren began, "You aren't in an interrogation room because you are not a suspect, unless you have something you want to tell us."

Jeff frowned. "I did not hurt my little sister. I wouldn't. Sure she can be a pest, but what kid sister or brother isn't?"

Goren pulled the sketch of the suspect from a folder and handed it to Jeff. Immediately, Jeff's face paled. "You know him." It was not a question.


	15. Putting A Name to His Face

Jeff swallowed hard as he studied the picture. Reaching out, he took it from Goren's hand. Goren let him, shifting his eyes to meet his partner's. Cressmoor did not take his eyes from his son. "Jeffrey? Answer the man."

Jeff's hand was shaking as he nodded. "I know him. Is he the one who hurt my sister?"

Eames started to reply, but fell silent at a signal from Goren. Quietly, he said, "We aren't sure, but our police artist made this sketch from a description Kelly gave him. Who is he, Jeff?"

Goren wasn't sure if it was shock or anger driving Jeff's reaction, but he needed to be certain before he let the boy leave with his father. When Jeff's hands tightened into fists, crumpling the picture, he had his answer. Cressmoor nudged his son's shoulder. "Answer the detective, Jeffrey. Who is he?"

"His name is Matthew Schroeder. He dated Gloria for a couple of months. After she broke up with him, he continued to harass her, so my buddy Rod and I went to see him, to tell him to leave her alone. I thought he had."

"Where does he live?"

"In the Bronx."

"Do you know the address?"

"No. Gloria said he had an apartment in Kingsbridge, but we went to see him at his job. He's a plumber's assistant at Gelman and Son." He took a few deep breaths. "I met him. He seemed like a decent guy, even after they broke up. He wasn't scaring her or anything. Just annoying her."

"Did you say or do anything to threaten him?"

"No. We just told him to leave her alone and left it at that. He didn't argue with us."

Cressmoor leaned over his son's shoulder. "Are you sure, Jeff? You didn't threaten him?"

"No, Dad. I swear." Jeff's face hardened into a deep frown. "If he is the one who hurt Kelly..."

"You will let these detectives handle it. That's their job. Period. Do you understand me?"

Jeff was trembling by now with the effort to control his rage. Goren leaned forward. "Jeff, look at me." When he had the boy's full attention, he continued, his voice calm, reassuring. "If he is the one who hurt your sister, Detective Eames and I will bring him in. But if you interfere, there is not going to be any justice for Kelly and you'll find yourself in trouble, too. So you need to listen to your dad. Calm down, go home and let us do our job. That's the best thing for you to do. You have helped us a great deal tonight. Now let us follow up on it."

"You'll let us know?"

"I promised your father that. Now can you promise me you'll go home and stay there?"

Jeff took a few more deep breaths before he finally nodded. Cressmoor took the crumpled paper from his son's hands and gave it back to Goren. "He'll behave. Let's go, Jeff." The boy got to his feet and preceded his father to the door. Cressmoor looked Goren directly in the eye. "You let me know, detective."

Goren nodded. "We will, major."

Cressmoor opened the door, followed his son from the room and pulled the door closed behind him. Goren rubbed his forehead and looked at Eames, who said, "Nice job. Now what?"

"Now, we find out where Mr. Schroeder lives and see if he's home."

"Want to take bets?"

He smiled as she got up and he followed her from the room.

* * *

The door splintered and popped open under the force of the ram. Vested, weapons drawn, Goren and Eames entered the apartment and moved from room to room, calling "Clear!" as each room proved empty. They met in the living room and holstered their weapons. "Okay, now what?" Eames asked. 

"We put out the word that we're looking for him." He turned to one of the officers who had accompanied them on the raid. "I want a car on this place. If he shows up, take him into custody and bring him down to Major Case."

"Yes, sir."

They took the time to go through the apartment, searching for any sign that Gloria had been there or that anything fishy had taken place. The apartment was clean. As they headed for the Explorer, he said, "First thing tomorrow, we'll pay a visit to Gelman and Son. Maybe we'll catch him at work."

"Do you think Gloria is still alive?"

He was quiet as he mulled over the question in his mind. They got into the car and he finally shrugged. "I don't have a good handle on this guy yet. A lot of things don't make sense. If he grabbed her from the hospital, why didn't anyone see it? It was the middle of the day."

"Suppose she left on her own? She's running scared because she lied to us."

"Then where is he?"

"Running scared because he assaulted Gloria and Kelly."

He shook his head. "It's not adding up, Eames. Two and two are not adding up to four. Something's not right."

She started the car. "Let me know when you start getting four. Now where to?"

He shrugged again. "Home. There's not much else to do until tomorrow."

"Except read over the case all night."

"Unless you can come up with something better to do."

"Is that a challenge, Goren?"

"Take it as you will, Eames," he said with a smile.

She headed the vehicle down the street. "I need to stop at my place for some clothes. I think we should go back to your place to review our files."

"All right. Why my place?"

She suppressed a smile. "I like your bed."

He turned toward the window, falling into silence. He liked that answer, but he still could not fully chase away his uncertainty. He was struggling to find his footing in this changed relationship with his partner, and he didn't want to screw anything up. _Let her set the pace,_ he told himself. _And go from there._

She glanced at him, not certain why he was withdrawing. She used to think she knew him, but now she was seeing a whole new side of him that upset her perception of what she did know about him. She hated uncertainty, but she didn't want to do anything that would send him scurrying for cover again. _Tread lightly,_ she told herself. _And see what happens._

As they left her apartment and headed for his, he realized that his fears of overstepping their boundaries were unfounded. Those boundaries had been self-imposed and she had not shared them. Now, he had no clue where the boundaries were and he was going to leave it to her to reestablish them. He would follow her lead...no matter where she went...

His silence was beginning to make her nervous and she was starting to worry that he was overthinking things again. When he put too much effort into thinking about things, he generally overreacted to circumstances. Well, she was just going to have to watch for that, and if he showed any signs of overreacting, she would have to nip it in the bud and reel him back in. _Nip and reel... _she smiled to herself. _Actually, that could be fun..._

As they approached his apartment door, he pulled out his keys and unlocked it, pushing the door open for her. Following her through the door, he locked it and dropped the keys onto the table beside the television. When he turned toward her, she was standing right there, waiting for him. He met her eyes and froze. He couldn't explain why it surprised him to see passion burning in her eyes, but it did and he momentarily drew a blank.

She reached forward and gently played with the waistband of his pants; he closed his eyes and shuddered. Reaching up, she undid his tie and slid it free of his collar, then pushed his jacket from his shoulders. Her fingers unbuttoned his shirt, button by button, with agonizing slowness. By this time, he had recovered sufficiently to participate in kind with the buttons on her shirt, struggling with himself to also move slowly. He leaned closer and claimed her mouth with his, gently guiding her backwards down the hall toward the bedroom.

A trail of clothes led from the living room down the hall and the sweet tension built up during the day crested and ebbed in the darkness of the bedroom and the soft comfort of his bed.

* * *

With a soft groan, Goren rolled over toward the ringing phone. He grabbed it from its cradle. "Goren," he muttered into it, listening as the sleep sloughed from his brain. "Okay...no...I'll call her...right..." 

He hung up the phone and turned over in the bed. "We have to go," he whispered into her ear, softly caressing the gentle curve of her hip. "They found Matthew."


	16. A Change of Suspects

They climbed the three flights of stairs to Matthew Schroeder's apartment. Goren was furious when he found out that the first apartment they had been to belonged to a different Mathew Schroeder. The department would owe the man, who was a sixty-five year old retired teacher, a new front door and an apology. Maybe, if they had been given the correct information, they would not be dealing with the scene that now awaited them in _this_ apartment.

The uniformed patrolman stepped away from the door to let them enter. The living room was a clutter of empty pizza boxes and Chinese take-out cartons, beer cans and magazines. Passing the kitchen, Eames took a reluctant look through the doorway. Dishes were piled in the sink and on the counter. The garbage can was full. She followed her partner down a narrow hallway, past the bathroom where a crime scene tech was sampling something from the floor, and into the bedroom. In the middle of the bed lay the body of Matthew Schroeder, naked except for his briefs. Beside him on the pillow was a bloody baseball bat. Whoever had killed him did a number on his head with it. "He pissed off someone," Eames noted wryly.

Goren was already busy examining the body, directing the CSU tech with the camera to take pictures from several different angles. He was nodding. "Whoever did this has a great deal of rage. They lost control of it and took it out on him. A jealous girlfriend, maybe?"

"What makes you say that?" He was never one to jump to conclusions.

With one hand, he picked up a pair of striped pajama bottoms from the floor. In the other hand, he held a red bra. Eames nodded. "She caught him in bed with someone else?"

Goren was now at the closet, head poking into the small space. He pulled out a well-used baseball glove. "Chances are the bat's his. There's a uniform in here, too. His team was sponsored by Vinnie's."

"A pizza joint?"

"That would be my guess."

"Shall we add _Vinnie's_ to our list of places to go?"

He nodded. "We'll need a list of his teammates, friends, girlfriends, co-workers...and we still haven't found Gloria."

She followed him back into the living room, where he sifted through the papers scattered on a small desk. "He didn't pay his electric bill last month, but he seems up-to-date with his credit card and his cable."

"Can't go without that porn."

Goren raised an eyebrow and looked amused. "Porn?"

She nodded at the stack of Playboy magazines on the coffee table. "Don't tell me you didn't notice his choice of reading material."

She picked up the remote from the table and pressed the power button. She gave her partner a look of vindication as she turned the set off. He raised his hands in surrender, not about to argue, and returned to his examination of the contents of the desk, an amused smile softening his features. In the middle drawer, he found a slip of paper with a phone number and the notation _GH_. He handed it to Eames, who raised her eyebrows. "'GH.' Somehow I don't think it means _Good Housekeeping_. Gloria Harrison?"

He inclined his head in agreement, turning back to the drawer as she pulled out her phone and dialed. There was no answer, but she listened to the voicemail message. Then she slipped into her imitation of a flighty teen. "Hi, Gloria. This is Debbie. Call me back. 555-2826. Bye."

Goren gave her another amused smile. "We can pull her phone records." He closed the drawer and motioned to a nearby tech. "Box up the contents of the desk."

"Yes, sir."

He moved to Eames' side. "Anything else you want to see?"

"No. I've seen plenty, thanks. Calling this kid a pig is an insult to swine everywhere."

They headed out of the apartment and down the stairs. Once they got to the street, Eames asked, "Back to the squadroom?"

"Do you want to get breakfast first?"

"You don't have to ask me that twice."

"I didn't think I'd have to," he replied with a smile as he got into the car.

* * *

For the third time, Goren looked through the crime scene report on Matthew Schroeder's apartment. Something wasn't sitting right with him, but he couldn't put his finger on it. His driver's license photo closely matched the artist's sketch of the suspect Kelly provided them. But he was beginning to doubt that Schroeder was their perp. He sifted through the crime scene photos again. Slamming the folder closed, inadvertently making his partner jump, he muttered an apology and, taking the folder with him, he headed for the conference room where the contents of Schroeder's desk sat in a box on the table.

Eames followed him. When the door clicked shut behind her, she asked, "What's wrong?"

He waved a hand in a gesture of irritated impatience she knew well. He was adding things up, but the answer he was getting wasn't the one he expected, and that was nagging at him. "Something's wrong," he muttered as he began pulling papers from the box. "Look..." He slapped a paper down on the table. "He volunteered as a Big Brother...and here's a schedule for the community center in his neighborhood."

"He was looking for victims?"

He sifted through more papers. "How long does it take to find a victim?" He tossed more papers onto the desk. "There are schedules here going back three years."

"Why keep three-year-old schedules?"

"If you don't clean out your desk..." He shrugged and pulled out a manila folder, studying the contents with interest. "Pauly Fredericks. His little brother." He flipped over page after page of contact reports that Schroeder filed with the association. "He's been Pauly's big brother for...five years. That doesn't sound like someone who would beat the crap out of a little girl."

Eames watched as he went back to the crime scene photos. He skidded one across the table toward her. She looked at it, then gave him a puzzled look. "What am I supposed to be seeing?"

"Look at the framed photos on the dresser."

She studied the picture. "And?"

"Why would a young bachelor have framed photos of a little girl in his apartment?"

"A daughter?"

"I don't think so. There's no evidence he pays child support, and the resemblance isn't strong enough. I'm thinking little sister." He shook his head again. "I'm not getting a portrait of a violent man here, Eames. Nothing is leading in that direction. Remember we were going to talk to his teammates on his baseball team?" She nodded. "He didn't play on a team. He _coached_ one. Little League." He tossed another paper from the desk onto the table. "Here's their spring schedule, team roster, and a thank you from the League for volunteering to coach."

She sat down, looking through the photos and digesting everything he'd told her. "So this puts us back at square one."

"Not necessarily. We, uh, we need to see Kelly again. Come on."

* * *

She pulled into an empty space in the hospital parking garage and he was out of the car before she turned off the engine. _Great_. He was onto something and it was going to be impossible to slow him down.

She locked the car and hurried after him, finding him waiting impatiently at the elevators. As the doors slid closed, she said, "You wouldn't have to wait for me if you'd slow down a little."

"I...uh, sorry," he muttered, distracted.

She rolled her eyes. Then she stepped into him, leaned up to kiss him and stepped away, almost in the same movement. The doors slid open as she moved away from him, and she exited the elevator and headed across the lobby a full twenty seconds before he got off the elevator. He caught up to her as she pushed a button on another set of elevators. "What was that for?" he whispered into her ear as he stepped up behind her.

"I just wanted to get your attention, and nothing else was working."

She stepped onto the elevator, feeling him directly behind her. She turned to face the doors and all she saw was his shirt and tie. She looked up into his face, but he stepped to the side. He didn't let his eyes stray from hers, however, until the elevator doors opened. She noticed that he didn't launch himself from the elevator, and she smiled. Point made and taken. One learned quickly to go with what worked, especially where he was concerned.

He paused outside the door of Kelly's room and knocked. "Come in," Patrice called from the room beyond.

When Kelly saw him, her face lit up and she bounced in the bed. "Bobby!" she squealed.

As Eames stepped over to Patrice and spoke softly to her, he smiled and sat lightly on the edge of the bed. "Hello, Kelly."

She moved closer to him. "Did you come to play?"

"Not today. I need to ask you a few more questions."

"Watch me," she insisted. Pulling out the little hacky-sacks he had given her the day before, she tossed one in the air, then another, and she dove to catch the first one. He easily caught the hacky-sack in one hand and the little girl in the other. "I'd feel better if you didn't practice on the bed," he commented, glancing toward Patrice, who had obviously been frightened by her daughter's headlong dive after the little ball. She smiled weakly at him. He gave her a reassuring smile, glanced at his partner, then returned his attention to Kelly.

Setting her lightly in front of her pillow, he said, "Kelly, you told us that the boy at the park hurt Gloria and then he hurt you. Do you remember that?"

She shook her head. "No."

"No what, Kelly?"

She studied her hands while Eames studied Goren, intently watching the child. She could almost hear the wheels in his mind turning and clicking as things began to fall into place for him. Kelly shifted in her bed. "Just no."

"Do you know the boy who stopped to play with you and Gloria?" She nodded. "What's his name?"

"Matt," she answered softly. "He didn't pay attention to Gloria. He wanted to play with me."

"Why did your ball go into the bushes?"

"Because..." she hesitated. "Because Gloria kicked it there."

"Was she mad?"

Kelly nodded. "She got mad because Matt wanted to play ball with me."

"So what happened when you went into the bushes?"

She shifted uncomfortably again. "Daddy will get mad, and his face will get purple and he'll yell."

"Did you do something wrong?"

She shook her head. "He won't yell at me. He'll yell at Gloria. I don't want her to get in trouble."

Goren rubbed his forehead, thinking of the best way to approach this. "Kelly, I don't think Gloria is going to be your nanny anymore, so Daddy won't be yelling at her when you're around."

"Daddy will send her away?"

"Yes, because she hurt you."

Tears began to fall over her cheeks. "I got my ball, and she told me I was bad, that I took Matt away from her, and she hit me. Matt tried to stop her, but she kept hitting me. He had to start hitting her to make her stop hitting me. She hurt me. I told her to stop, but she didn't listen."

She started to cry and she fell forward into his arms. He lifted her onto his shoulder and held her, looking at Patrice, whose hands were covering her mouth in shock. He shifted his eyes to his partner. He recognized the hard look on her face. Murmuring softly to the crying child, he gently moved and set her in her mother's lap. She buried her face in Patrice's shirt and cried harder. Patrice kissed her and rocked her, looking at the two detectives. "What now?" she asked.

"Now we find Gloria," Goren answered, as if it were a simple matter. He touched Kelly's head and leaned over. "We have to leave now, Kelly. Be a good girl."

She sat up and, still sobbing, looked at him. Reaching out a hand, she touched his cheek. When he smiled at her, she managed a smile in return. He touched her nose and her smile widened. Still sobbing, she nestled into her mother's arms and waved to the two detectives.

Goren turned at the door and said, "Don't leave her alone, Mrs. Cressmoor."

"I won't," she promised. "Do you think there is any threat, detective?"

"I don't know. It's better not to take chances."

He winked at the little girl and they left the room. Eames looked at him as they walked toward the elevators. "Just find her, eh? That simple?"

He nodded and gave her a sideways glance. "That simple."

"I don't even want to know your concept of difficult, Goren."

He smiled as the elevator doors opened. "You probably don't, Eames."

"What made you think it was Gloria who hurt Kelly?"

"Matt didn't fit the profile."

"And Gloria does?"

"Maybe. I don't know enough about her yet."

"So we're going to go and look through her drawers now?"

He smiled and that was all the answer she needed.


	17. Daddy's Choice

**A/N: Happy New Year, everyone! I hope everyone had a good holiday. Enjoy the updates and the new story!**

* * *

Goren adjusted his vest and glanced at Eames, who nodded. He pounded on the apartment door. "Police, open up!" 

Nothing. He repeated the order. Again, not a sound issued from within the apartment. He glanced at the vested officers who waited, weapons drawn, and nodded. They broke down the door and hurried into the apartment, Goren and Eames right behind them. The all-clear came from the kitchen, bathroom, hallway...and then... "I have a locked door here!"

"Hold on!" Goren made his way down the hall. "Clear the hallway."

Standing clear of the doorway, he knocked. "Gloria? This is Detective Goren. My partner and I talked to you in the hospital last week. Remember?"

"Go away," she sobbed.

"We can't do that. Open the door, Gloria. I want to talk to you again."

"Go away!" Her voice was approaching a screech. "Just go away!"

"Open the door, Gloria. It's just me and Detective Eames here. No one else is going to come in."

She was quiet for a minute, but he could hear her sobs. Finally, she said, "Just you."

He looked at Eames and nodded. She shook her head. He bent his head toward her. "It's all right. I'll be fine."

She studied his face. "If I even think there's a problem, we're coming in there."

"There won't be a problem."

If she had not trusted him and his negotiating skills as much as she did, she would never have consented. But she did trust him. Finally, she nodded and moved a short way down the hall.

"All right, Gloria. It's just me."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

He could hear her moving in the room, and then the door unlocked. With a final look down the hall at Eames, he opened the door and went inside. The room surprised him. He would have expected Kelly's room to look like this, not Gloria's. It was decorated in pink and white, with stuffed animals everywhere. Gloria was seated in the center of the bed, her clothes bloody. Her uninjured arm was wrapped around a teddy bear. She was rocking back and forth, and looking down at the bed in front of her. Laying on the bedspread, directly in front of her crossed legs, was a handgun.

Goren closed the door behind him and stood near it, unwilling to increase her agitation. "Gloria?"

"This was Daddy's gun," she said softly. "He kept it locked away, until he died. I found it on the floor next to his chair, and I took it and left home."

"Where was home?"

"Oklahoma. I came here and got my job working for the major."

"Why was the gun on the floor?" He already knew the answer.

"He dropped it when he was done using it."

"Your father committed suicide, didn't he?" She nodded, not taking her eyes from the gun. "Where was your mother?"

"In the bedroom."

"He shot her first, didn't he?"

Again she nodded. "But it wasn't Daddy's fault. She was bad."

"Bad?"

"She brought someone else home."

He nodded his head slowly. "Were you home when she did that?"

"Yes, and I ran to get Daddy. I thought that guy was hurting her. It never occurred to me that she was doing it willingly."

"When did that happen?"

"The week before I left home. Daddy wasn't mad. He was really quiet, and he never smiled again. Not even for me."

He had very slowly approached the bed as he talked to her. He was standing several feet away from the foot of the bed when he asked, "Can you tell me what happened that day in the park?"

"Matt hurt me."

"Why did he hurt you, Gloria?"

"Because I had to punish Kelly. Matt was my boyfriend, and she was taking him."

"Like that other man took your mother."

"Yes! You see, don't you?"

He nodded. Yes, he was getting the picture. "Why did you leave the hospital after we talked to you?"

"I knew Kelly was going to tell you what happened and I didn't want to see you look at me that way."

"What way?"

"Like I did something bad."

He tipped his head to the left and leaned over to catch her eye. "Am I looking at you like that?"

For the first time, she raised her eyes to his face. Then she lifted her head to look at him. The condemnation she expected to see was not there. "But I did something wrong."

"I'm glad you can see that. Tell me what you did that was wrong."

"I hurt Kelly. But I didn't really mean to. I...lost control of myself when I saw her taking Matt away."

He nodded as he eased himself down to sit on the foot of the bed. "So what happened to Matt?"

"I realized I was wrong to blame Kelly. And I was wrong to blame my mother. It was that man, and it was Matt. That man was never punished. I couldn't find him. I never even knew his name. But I knew where Matt was, and I didn't want him to get away with it. I fixed it so he can never do that again."

He reached forward slowly, keeping his eyes on hers. "Did Matt ever hurt Kelly?"

"No. He always played ball with her and made her laugh. He was good with her. But then he made her try to take him away from me."

His hand covered the gun. "We were told you broke up with him, but he continued to bother you."

She turned her eyes from him to the bear in her lap. "He just wanted to be friends. And he wanted to see Kelly."

He drew his hand back, taking the gun with him. She didn't object. He ejected the cartridge, placing it in one pocket and the gun in the other. "Are you ready to come with us, Gloria?"

"What's going to happen to me?"

"That's up to our district attorney. You can talk to him in the morning and he'll give you your options."

"I guess I can't do it Daddy's way, can I?"

"No. That isn't an option."

"Is Kelly all right?"

"She will be."

She nodded and laid the bear on the bed as she got up. He followed her to the door and pulled it open for her. Eames met her in the hallway and cuffed her. A uniformed officer led her away as he recited her Miranda rights to her. Eames looked at her partner, who pulled the gun and clip from his pocket. "She had this sitting on th bed in front of her. It's the gun her father used to kill her mother and himself."

Eames closed her eyes and shook her head. He leaned down and spoke into her ear. "Let's go get breakfast. By the time we're done she'll be processed in and Carver will be ready to talk to us."

"And what do we do when the major shows up wanting to talk to her?"

He half-smiled. "We piss him off again and tell him he can't?"

"Good plan. It's your turn to do that."

He laughed quietly and followed her from the apartment.

* * *

As they'd predicted, Cressmoor came in to the squad room as soon as he was told Gloria had been found. He was waiting for them when they got there. Leaning back against Goren's desk, he watched them approach. "The chief told me you found and arrested Gloria," he said as they approached him. "Would one of you like to fill me in?" 

Goren moved his chair away from the desk and dropped into it. "Matthew Schroeder did not hurt Kelly. In trying to protect her, he ended up injuring Gloria, but he didn't hurt your little girl."

Slowly, Cressmoor nodded his head. "Two questions, then, detective. First, you had an easy out. Why didn't you take it?"

"An easy out? I'm not sure I understand, sir."

"Matthew Schroeder was dead. You could easily have blamed him and no one would ever have been any the wiser."

"But he didn't do it."

"You didn't know that."

"Yes, sir, I did."

"How? Can you communicate with the dead, Detective Goren?"

Goren suppressed an amused smile. "No, sir, but I can read the living. The picture we got of the man Schroeder was told me he would not have hurt your daughter. Pinning the assault on him did not sit right with me. It's not just about solving a case, major. It's about bringing the right person to justice."

"Who would ever have known?"

"I would have."

Cressmoor considered him carefully before he slowly nodded and asked, "Before my daughter told you it was Gloria who hurt her, did you know?"

"No, sir, I didn't know. But I suspected."

"Why?"

"We had no other viable suspect, and her behavior was suspicious."

"Did she confess?"

"Yes, sir, she did."

"May I talk to her?"

"That's up to Mr. Carver. The case is out of our hands now, major. We've done our job and it's over. The DA has it, so you'll have to deal with him."

Cressmoor looked from Goren to Eames and back. "I wasn't sure at the beginning of this case, but I am glad I trusted my friend's judgment about you and requested that you take this case. I apologize again for my initial...difficult behavior. Thank you for your work, and for finding justice for Kelly. You said Carver is the man I need to talk to now?"

Goren nodded. "Ron Carver."

"Thank you."

They watched him turn on his heel and head for the elevators. "Wait until he finds out Gloria will probably never do time for the assault or the murder," Goren commented.

"You don't think so?"

He shook his head. "She has extenuating psychiatric circumstances. She'll get a bed at Bellevue's psych ward before she'll get a jail cell. Tell me you couldn't see that she's not in her right mind."

"Carver can prosecute."

"I don't think he'll waste his time."

"The confession won't stand?"

"The confession is what'll get her into a locked ward at Bellevue. She'll get what she needs and she won't be able to hurt anyone else."

She leaned back in her chair and studied him. "I guess that's what it's about in the long run, isn't it? Keeping them from doing it again, in any way we can?"

He nodded. "Punishment is secondary to prevention and protection, especially when there's no efficacy in it. Going to jail won't fix Gloria. I'm not sure anything can, but Bellevue is her best hope."

"And if she can't recover?"

"She'll stay there. Without evidence of recovery, the courts won't let her out."

"Suppose she ends up being one of the ones who slips through the cracks?"

"Then she'll be seeing the inside of a police station again. There's only so much we can do, Eames."

"I know. All we can do is hope for the best."

He just nodded and turned his attention to the paperwork necessary to closing the case. "Let's get this paperwork out of the way so we can go home."

She smiled at him, meeting his eyes. The flicker of desire she saw in those dark depths told her all she wanted to know. _Home...with him..._ There was no place in the world she would rather be.

_fin_


End file.
